La Blonde
by Adrianna
Summary: The story of Fantine's life, my first fic so be nice! : ) *COMPLETE!!!*
1. Prologue

Disclaimer : Not mine…. They all belong to Victor Hugo. I guess I own the nurse though : ).

Author's Notes : Like it? Hate it? Want to see where it's going? Click on the little review box please, reviews make me happy.

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Prologue

It began in Montreuil-sur-mer, in a small poverty stricken street. Rain was pouring down in sheets and bouncing off the pavement. Every so often lightening flashed across the sky and thunder echoed through the houses. A handful of street urchins crouched in the porch of an empty house sharing a loaf of bread, watching the rain.

A lone figure hurried down the middle of the street clutching a shawl about her shoulders. Her blonde hair was blowing around her face, and she was clinging to a piece of paper. 

One of the urchins nudged his friend "Thomas, do you know who that is?"

Thomas prided himself on knowing the names of everyone living in the tiny street, but after staring at the woman for a few moments he shrugged.

The figure suddenly spotted the gamins and hurried over. Reading from the paper she called over the rain "where is the home of Maxime and Nicolette Vaux?"

The urchins eyed her rich clothes with distaste, and the eldest (a boy of about fourteen) stood up. "What's it to you?" he asked rudely.

The woman gave a sigh of annoyance and spoke impatiently " I am a nurse. Someone from this street woke me to say that a Madam Nicolette Vaux was having a baby and I was to come at once."

The boy's tone changed and he caught hold of the woman's arm. "Right this way – we've been waiting for such a long time."

He hurried off, pulling the woman with him. They ran a few more yards, occasionally slipping on the wet pavement, before he ran down a side alley. The nurse followed and saw him standing outside a house. Except she wasn't sure if it was a house, it looked like a partially demolished stable.

"This is it" the boy said, pointing to the "house".

"They LIVE here?" the nurse asked.

"Yes. It's quite roomy – we share with two other families"

The nurse glanced again at the house. "It doesn't look very roomy."

The boy seemed ready to reply when a man running from the doorway interrupted them.

"Bernard!" he called. "Where have you been boy? Out playing with urchins while your poor mother…" he noticed the nurse. "Oh at last. Go right through Mademoiselle – Nicolette is in the bedroom."

The nurse nodded curtly and hurried to the house.

"Are you not going in father?" Bernard asked.

"No boy, it's bad luck for a man to be present at the birth."

"How is mother?"

His father opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a high pitched scream from the house.

Bernard winced as the scream turned into a moan.

"She shouldn't have had this baby" Maxime snapped. "It'll kill her!"

Suddenly the screams from the house stopped. The small cry of a child went up in their place.

Maxime straight away bolted through the door calling Nicolette's name. Bernard followed quietly. Maxime entered the bedroom and let out a whimper.

His wife lay on her bed, her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open. Her long blonde hair covered the pillow and framed her face. One of her arms hung limply over the bedclothes.

"Nicolette?" he asked, knowing she couldn't hear him.

"She is dead Monsieur" the nurse said from the edge of bed – where she was nursing a small bundle. "I'm very sorry, childbirth was too much for her." She held out the bundle. "But you have a beautiful daughter."

Maxime looked at the baby. Big blue eyes and fair hair – just like Nicolette. "This baby killed my wife."

"No Monsieur" the nurse protested. "It was the pain of childbirth. It was too –"

"Childbirth" Maxime interrupted. "The birth of that child killed her!"

The nurse laid the baby on the bed next to Nicolette. "Monsieur…"

He glared at her.

"I have other people to see tonight. I must be leaving, but I'll come back tomorrow…to check on the baby. I'm very sorry about your wife."

Maxime nodded curtly. "Thank you for your help."

The nurse returned, as she'd promised, the next morning. Maxime greeted her at the door and informed her that the baby had died in the night.

"Died?" she cried. "But she was perfectly healthy!"

"Yes….poor thing caught a chill" Maxime said, his breath smelling of alcohol.

The nurse shook her head. "But…"

"Once again I thank you for your help last night" he interrupted. "Good day". And with that he closed the door.

"He's lying" came a voice from behind her.

She turned. "Bernard! Where is the baby?"

He shrugged. "Under a bridge. He put her in a basket and dumped her."

The nurse shuddered. "But she'll die!"

"She'll be fine" he said. "I know the urchins who sleep under that bridge. They'll take care of her."

The nurse sighed. "Poor thing, with that kind of a start in life who knows what will happen to her."

**__**


	2. And you have to pay your way

Disclaimer : Not mine *sigh*

Author's Notes : Yeah I know this chapter is somewhat dull, but it will get better I promise! : ). Just to explain (so I don't get flamed) farm owners would look for workers on the streets because urchins were normally desperate for work and would work for next to nothing. 

And special thanks to Darkness and Charlie5587 – my first ever reviewers! (ah, don't you feel special?).

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And you have to pay your way, at the end of the day

I grew up under a bridge. Sounds bad? Well really it wasn't. There was a group of us, all orphans, all huddled under this bridge. We were like one big family – the older girls were mothers, the older boys were fathers.

The bridge was just outside Montreuil-sur-mer, a small bridge that went over a little stream. It was hot in the summer, and bitterly cold in the winter. It was the bridge where some of the older boys had found the small basket containing me only ten years before.

They had taken me in, even though there was no room and I was just one more mouth to feed. But the boy who found me said I was "a fighter". And I really was. For all those ten years under the bridge I never caught so much as a cold. One of the older boys named me Christine, then one of the older girls named me Rose. For a while I was Marie, then Nicole. But a passer by ,who saw me running about in the rain, gave me the name Fantine. And it stuck.

I was always a pretty child, long golden hair and big blue eyes. Even people who would hurry away from urchins stopped for me and would give me pieces of food and mutter things like "what's a pretty girl like you doing in this kind of life?"

I would smile and take the food back to our bridge where even the smallest portions could be divided between twenty of us.

It was July, and ten years to the day when I had been found, a baby in a basket. The day was also important because one of my closest friends, a girl named Marie was going off to work after being spotted by the wife of a wealthy land owner.

"I don't want to go" she complained.

"Stop whining, it's a job" one of the older boys said. "You get paid, you get your own room – more than we've got"

"And you said Madame Enjolras is nice" I said.

"She seems nice enough" Marie sighed. "But it's not her who runs the farm is it?"

"You've been lucky" I told her. "Just go."

"Will you come with me?" Marie asked shyly.

"I don't think –" I began to speak, but we were interrupted by the sound of a cart on the bridge above us.

"That's her!" Marie exclaimed.

One of the boys laughed. "She's giving you a lift aswell!"

Marie blushed. "She doesn't trust me to make the walk by myself. Fantine, I'll ask her if you can come along."

"I don't think it will work Marie"

"It will, I told you she's nice" Marie ran up the banking and we heard her light footsteps on the bridge. A few moments later she called down to me.

"Fantine! Madame wants to meet with you!"

I made my own way up the banking and came face to face with one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen. She was tall, had blonde curls that flowed down her back and blue eyes. She was heavily pregnant, but still held herself gracefully.

"Fantine" she smiled. "Marie tells me that she simply will not come to my husband's farm unless you do too."

I glared at Marie, who gave me a broad smile.

"I was on the look out for another maid" she said. "What do you say?"

I smiled at her. "I'd be glad to."

Marie clapped her hands.

"Don't you need to run and get a few things?" Madame Enjolras asked.

"I don't have anything" Marie and I replied in unison.

Madame Enjolras was very kind. We stopped in town on the way and she bought us both dresses and shoes. It was the first time I wore anything that I wore anything that was the right size. She explained that her husband liked his servants to be dressed smartly, it made him seem a kinder boss.

"But he's not" she told us both. "I recommend you stay out of his way, he doesn't have any patience with young girls. " She continued pointing out of the window of the carriage. "That's the barn. The younger servants sleep there, and you see next to it? That's the servant's quarters, the butlers and such live there."

As we turned a corner, a beautiful house came into view. It was white with huge pillars around the doorway.

"And that's where my husband and I live" she smiled.

Marie and I were amazed. We had never seen such a house, you don't really get a good view of the world from under a bridge.

Our carriage came to a stop and a maid (who had been waiting outside) held open the door so Madame could get out. Before Marie and I could, she closed the door.

"Your husband wants to see you," the maid said. "And he wishes to see the girls too."

"Thank you Estelle. I'll make my own way up, can you bring the girls?"

"Of course" Estelle replied. Then she rapped her hands on the side of the carriage "come on girls. I'm not going to give you any special treatment."

Marie and I jumped out, and got our first good look at the maid.

She was large, with flaming red hair pulled up on her head. She introduced herself as "Estelle Thernardier." A name that was to have a large effect on the rest of my life.

"I'll take you to see the master," she said curtly. "You're to be errand girls – running into town, fetching water and other odd jobs." She strode across the field, Marie and I running to keep up.

"Now when you meet the master, don't look him directly in the eyes. Don't speak unless you are spoken to" she ordered. "He's been very kind letting Madame take you two in. He's not that keen on having urchins working for him."

We reached Monsieur Enjolras's office. Estelle went inside first, then called Marie in. I sat outside in silence, listening to the murmur of voices from inside the office.

Marie came back out, and Estelle called me in.

I quietly walked inside. Monsieur Enjolras sat behind a dark panelled desk facing the door. He was a handsome man – blonde and blue eyed like his wife.

I began to sit down in a chair in front of the desk.

"Did I say you could sit?" he snapped.

I jumped.

"Stand beside the chair please."

I did as I was told.

"Name?" he barked.

"Fantine."

He wrote it down on a sheet of paper, and glanced up at me. "Just Fantine?"

"Just Fantine, Monsieur"

"You don't have a last name?" 

"No, Monsieur."

He muttered something about urchins and then barked "age?"

"I'm ten years old"

He scribbled that down too.

"May I ask what this is in aid of Monsieur?" I asked quietly.

He glanced up. "So I can keep track of who's working for me. Address?"

I fidgeted. "Well, I don't really have one"

"What do you mean you don't really have one? Where did you live girl?"

"Under a bridge Monsieur"

He sighed and wrote aloud "under a bridge. Family?"

I fidgeted again.

"None" he wrote aloud. "That is all Fantine. You may go to the barn."

"Thank you Monsieur" I said, although I didn't really know what I was thanking him for. I turned and left the office, desperately wanting to be back under the bridge – strange as it sounded.

**__**


	3. There's a child

Disclaimer : I don't own them, they belong to the God that is Victor Hugo.

Author's Notes : Ooooo two updates in one day! This chapter has the first appearance of Baby Enjy (awww) and a bit more Madame Thernardier. And I can't believe I have three reviews! I'm glad you guys like my story : ).

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There's a child…

My first week was terrible. I had assumed there would be more people from my sort of background, but Marie and I stuck out. The other errand-girls with whom we shared our barn were nice enough, but Estelle and her friends had a bet on to see how long we would last. 

"I want to stay here a month just so she'll lose twenty francs" I told Marie, who giggled.

The barn was a pleasant enough place to sleep. It was full of straw, which kept the room warm and along the wall were four sets of bunk beds. Opposite these beds was a small table with two chairs. A knee high wooden wall separated our living area from the milking cows – who were in stalls on the other side.

Marie and I were feeding the horse of an important visitor in the stables near the house when we heard shouting and the sound of wheels on the path outside. Above it all was the sound of Estelle calling for a nurse.

I hurried to the door. "She must be having the baby" I told Marie.

She wrung her hands. "Should we go and see if we can help?"

I was about to reply when Estelle burst in. "You two" she snapped. "Wet some cloths and bring them up to the house."

"Is Madame having the baby?" I asked.

Estelle ignored us and hurried back to the house.

A few moments later Marie and I (carrying bundles of wet cloth) entered the main hall of the house. It was the first time either of us had had the chance to look around properly and we spun about looking at the paintings and rich furniture. People bustled back and forth down the grand staircase from a room above us. Occasionally a footman would run down the staircase and to the front door, where he would glance around outside – then return.

"He should be here" the footman muttered, mostly to himself. 

"Are you talking about Monsieur Enjolras?" I asked.

"Yes" the footman returned to the door. "He's late, he knows she's having the baby…wait! There's his carriage now". He glanced back up the stairs before hurrying out of the door.

A baby's cry came from the room, and the footman reappeared.

"Where is Monsieur?" I asked.

"He says he has business to take care of first" the footman exclaimed. "Business! His wife is upstairs having a baby, and all he can say is "I have business". When Paulette had our children I was there, all eight times!"

"Eight!" I exclaimed.

The footman continued. "And all he say's is "I hope it's a boy". That poor baby"

A nurse appeared at the top of the stairs, carrying in her arms a small figure wrapped in red cloth. She walked slowly down the steps as she addressed the footman.

"Michael dear, where is Monsieur?"

"Taking care of something Paulette"

Paulette rolled her eyes. "Will you go and fetch him? Madame wants to see him."

Michael obeyed, and Paulette approached Marie and me.

"It's a boy" she said. "And the mirror image of his mother if you ask me."

I stood on my toes and stared at the sleeping baby. He had a head of blonde hair, and pale skin. "He's beautiful" I told her.

"Is it a boy?" a voice asked from the doorway. We turned to see Monsieur Enjolras.

"Yes Sir" Paulette replied. "Your wife wishes to name him –"

"His name is Marcelin"

"But your wife – "

"Marcelin" he barked. "He'll run the farm when I'm gone."

"That can't come too quickly for me Sir" Paulette muttered.

Monsieur awkwardly touched his son's head, then turned on his heel and walked out of the door.

We stood there, shocked.

"He didn't even glance at him!" I exclaimed.

"That poor woman" Paulette said. "She dotes on him, and he doesn't deserve it. Marcelin! What kind of a name is that? With a name like Marcelin he'll be dead before he's thirty." She smiled absent-mindedly at the baby. "He's going to be handsome though. I'll take those cloths my dears" she took our bundles. "Must go and tell Madame her baby has a new name." She gave us a broad smile.

"I think Marcelin is pretty" Marie said, when Paulette has disappeared up the stairs. "It's poetic."

"His father couldn't seem to care less" I observed. 

"I wonder what he'll be when he grows up" Marie wondered.

"Nothing, he'll stay on this farm – you heard his father. Unless he rebels."

Marie smiled. "Yes, he looked the rebellious type."

We both laughed, and made our way back to the stables.

**__**


	4. Then it all went wrong

Disclaimer : All not mine…..I wish I owned Enjy though. 

Author's Notes : Well this is finished, so updates are going to be very frequent for the next few weeks. Starting work on two sequels to this. One about Cosette because that girl gets a bad deal in fan fiction, and I'm hoping writing it will make me like her a bit more : ). And one about Enjolras because now I've started my portrayal of him I'm finding it hard to stop : )….. Also I've managed to jump about five years into this one chapter so bear with me…

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Then it all went wrong….

My life was happy. I was fifteen years old, and still bright and pretty. My years on the farm had flown by as though they were a dream. I'd forgotten what it was to sleep under bridges and look for food. Estelle frequently tried to make me miserable, but when someone is as happy as I was insults just seem to bounce off them.

Marcelin was now five years old and a very charming child. He was the image (quite sadly) of his father – golden curls and big blue eyes. He now had two younger sisters, Yvette and Cecile. Monsieur Enjolras rarely saw his son, always away on "buisness". Marie and I had reason to believe otherwise as we frequently saw him walking through town with a pretty brunette on his arm. 

"Maybe we should tell her" Marie said wringing her hands, something she always did when she was nervous.

"Tell who?" I replied.

"Madame Enjolras! About him and his….."

"Don't Marie" I advised. "It will only stir up trouble."

Besides, I had a feeling she knew but was too afraid to say anything. She was scared of her husband. Terrified in fact. We servants often saw her with black eyes and bruises, not believing her feeble "oh I tripped."

Although Marcelin had his pick of all the children in the neighbourhood, he seemed to prefer the company of servants. In particular Marie and myself. Monsieur Enjolras disapproved of this greatly, he didn't want his son playing with servants..

"Why not?" I asked Marie.

She shrugged. 

"I don't understand that man" I whined.

Marcelin smiled up at me. "He says that I'm going to run the farm when I'm older and that farm owners don't soc…soc…."

"Socialise" Marie corrected.

"That's right! Don't sociaise with servants."

"Don't listen to him Marcelin" I cut in. "You can do whatever you want"

He grinned and reached out to take something from Marie. As his sleeve pulled up I noticed a large blue bruise.

"How did you do that?" I asked, pointing to it.

He blushed and looked at the floor. "Fellover."

"What?" 

"Leave it" Marie hissed.

That was the first of many mysterious bruises that appeared on Marcelin. They would crop at everywhere, but never on his face.

"It's his father" I told Marie. "He's doing it!"

"Stay out of it" she told me. "You need this job."

And after all what could I do? A lowly servant girl standing up to her master over him striking his son, it would never work.

I was planning to go and confront him though. I was planning it that morning. It was a Thursday and bitterly cold. Estelle's husband was visiting. He was a horrible man – tall, skinny with eyes that bore right through you.

He was trying to tell me something about Waterloo when Estelle burst in. "You!" she snapped at me, before casting a smile at her husband. "The master wants to see you."

"Why does he want to see me?" 

"I have no idea" she said. And as an afterthought "if I did I wouldn't tell you. He's in his office."

I walked to the house solemnly. I hadn't been inside his office since that first day when he had asked for my details. I walked through the maze of corridors, and arrived at the dark oak door.

I knocked on it nervously and was met with a curt "come in".

I entered and made my way to the chair in front of the desk. I was about to sit down when I remembered the first day – and so I stood beside it.

Monsieur was sat at his desk, glaring out at me from under that blonde hair. Formally he began "I have decided to dismiss you."

"Why?" I cried.

"You seem to be having a negative effect on my son, turning his back on this house and this farm. Why, just today he told me "Fantine says I can be whatever I want when I grow up".."

"Beat it out of him did you?" I replied.

He jumped out of his chair. "What did you say?"

"Did.You.Beat.It" I began, but was interrupted by him slamming his fist on the desk.

"I give you five minutes to fetch your things or I will excort you from the property myself! How dare you come in _my_ office and say such things about…"

"But they're true!" I cried, and he raised his hand to my face.

"Five minutes girl. Now get out."

Terrified, I scuttled from the room back to the barn. I bundled two dresses and my comb into a bag and frantically ran around the farm searching for Marie.

But she was nowhere to be found. She'd gone on some errand to town. Crying from frustration, I admitted defeat and made my dejected way to the cart path.

"Fantine!" a familiar voice came from behind me. "Where are you going?"

Marcelin arrived at my feet. "And why are you crying?"

"Your father has dismissed me" I told him.

His lip trembled. "But why?"

"Because….." my voice trailed off and I knelt down to his height. "Remember what I always told you Marcelin. You don't have to work on this farm, you have to fight. Fight your father and fight for what you believe in. Do you promise?"

"I promise" he replied.

I hugged him, stood back up and continued on my way. Marcelin chased me, pulled on my skirts, called my name. But I couldn't look at him because I knew that if I did I wouldn't be able to leave.

We reached the path. Marcelin was not allowed any further alone, and so stood still, calling my name.

I blinked back tears and turned left to the main road. Hearing a cart behind me, I turned – waving my arms around.

The cart pulled to a halt and the driver squinted at me.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"To Paris" came his reply.

"Then so am I" I said, and got in the back with the barrels.

**__**


	5. Paris

Disclaimer : Still not mine…

Author's Notes : Read and review please!!

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Paris

The driver and I didn't talk much on the way. I sat in the back, being knocked into barrels with every jolt in the road. The driver asked me no questions as to why a girl my age was travelling to Paris alone, and I was grateful. We only stopped briefly on the long trip for the driver to feed his horse. He also bought a loaf of bread, which we shared between us.

A few hours later we arrived in Paris. The city was so busy compared to the little villages I was used to – the streets were full of people wandering back and forth. The second the cart stopped I leapt out, trying to get rid of the stiff sensation in my legs. Looking to the sky I saw it was going dark. And I had nowhere to sleep.

I couldn't dwell on this very long however, as someone knocked into me – sending me stumbling into a man who caught hold of my waist.

"Where are you going my lovely?" he asked, smiling a horrible toothless grin.

"Get off me!" I screamed, freeing myself and taking off through the streets. 

I pushed my way through the crowds. Men whistled, one even clutched my hair. Women clutched at my skirts and at my locket. I kept on running until I finally reached an opening.

The opening led out on to a grassy bank, which sloped down to a bridge with a small stream under it. Just like the one in Montreuil-sur-mer where I had spent my first ten years. I stood still for a moment staring at it, then fell to my knees – crying. I cried as though my heart would break, I was alone. Completely alone for the first time in my life. Marie didn't know where I was, Marcelin would have forgotten me soon.

I spent the night under the bridge. Gone where the days when I'd enjoyed the urchin life, now I just wished for my warm bunk in the barn.

Trying to find a comfortable position I told myself "I must look for a job tomorrow. And then a room. I can't sleep here again.

As soon as dawn broke, I was up. I combed my hair – which now fell past my waist -, tidied up my dress and went out in search of somewhere to work.

Paris really wasn't so daunting early in the morning. There weren't many people around and I was able to take in the full beauty of the place.

I stopped in every shop on the street, but was turned away.

Then, as if by fate, I came to a lady's dress shop with a note in the window advertising a placement.

I stepped inside, a little bell sounding my arrival. It was a tiny shop, but very colourful- with fabrics hanging on the walls and many dresses hanging up on racks.

There were three girls chattering in the corner who all looked up when I entered.

"Can we help you?" the tallest one asked.

"I'm here about the note in the window" I explained.

"Oh, I'll go and get Philip for you" she said.

She disappeared through a door, and reappeared with a man. He was tall with dark brown hair and grey eyes. His face was kind and he walked carefully.

"I've come about the job" I told him.

"Aaaah" he said in a soft English accent. "Yes we've been looking for work. What is your name?"

"Fantine"

There was a pause as he waited for my surname, but then he continued. "Have you worked before?"

"Five years on a farm in Montreuil-sur-mer" I replied.

"I'll work you here for a week" he said, almost to himself. "See if you're suitable. Come here tomorrow. Eight o'clock sharp"

I smiled broadly, showing off my teeth. "Thank you monsieur" and then I left the shop.

In my happiness, I jumped off the step, straight into someone coming the other way.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I exclaimed. "I didn't see you!"

The person I'd walked into however didn't seem to upset, instead thrusting their hand into mine and shaking it.

"Felix Tholomyes" he said. "And you are?"

**__**


	6. When men were kind

Disclaimer : Yes they're mine! All mine!! *cackles evilly* Bwhahha *****stops cackling* Okay they're not…they're Victor Hugos.

Author's Notes : Told you updates were going to be frequent : ). Really a very nothingy chapter – bit more Tholomyes. Oh and big thanks to Eponine87 who reviewed not once but twice! Don't worry, there will be more Enjy later – especially for you Enjy's rabid fangirl! : )

****

When men were kind….

I smiled at this man who was still shaking my hand. "And you are?" he repeated.

"Fantine" I replied.

"Just Fantine?" he grinned.

"Just Fantine" I told him.

Whenever I met anyone knew I would always take time to study their face closely, and I did this to Tholomyes. He was older than me, in his late twenties I estimated – tall, skinny, gap-toothed with a bald patch in the middle of his brown hair. He seemed very high spirited though. The smile he wore never left his face.

"Well Just Fantine" he said. "It's not every day I bump into beautiful young blondes on the street" he smiled when I blushed. "And if I do I normally never see them again."

"Why's that?" I asked.

"I just bow and let them carry on" he replied. "But they've never been as pretty as yourself. If you don't mind me saying so you look rather skinny…how about we go and get something to eat?"

It was as though he'd read my mind, I hadn't eaten since that piece of bread on the cart and accepted his offer gratefully.

Tholomyes practically skipped all the way. With him at my side I felt safer in the busy midday human traffic of Paris. People didn't push into me anymore, although he was skinny Tholomyes gave off an air of authority, which made people walk around him.

Suddenly he stopped his conversation and grabbed my wrists dramatically. "Fantine, where are you staying?"

"Oh…." I racked my brains for somewhere. A guesthouse? Maybe a rich relative?

"You're sleeping in doorways" he said, his face taking on a expression of pity.

"Well, under a bridge actually. Doorways are draughty" I replied.

"I have a room!" he announced, as though he was in a play. "I don't use it"

"You must be very rich" I said. "And you must have a very good job"

He shrugged. "Not really, but my parents do. You're welcome to stay there"

"Where?"

"My room!"

Warily I replied "we've only just met."

"I'm not a con man Just Fantine, I'm not going to have my wicked way with you or anything..I dread to think what could happen to a girl as lovely as yourself on the streets alone. At night"

"Are all the men in Paris this kind?" I asked.

"Is that an acceptance?" he crowed.

"Well…"

He clapped his hands. "To the room!"

I soon found him to be great company. His eternal optimism seemed to rub off on me slightly, as he skipped like a child all the way to his room.

It was in a house near the centre of town, and close to the dress shop. It was tiny and bare, but had a bed, a mirror, a chair – everything I needed.

"I know it's a little small" Tholomyes apologised.

"It's perfect" I assured him. "But I have no money to pay you for it."

"Free of charge!" he exclaimed.

"Oh no monsieur I couldn't.."

"FREE OF CHARGE! I won't hear of you staying on the streets again."

"But – "

"No buts"

"What can I give you in return?"

"Your thanks and an acceptance to the invitation I'm about to offer you."

"Invitation?"

"To have dinner with me tomorrow night" he replied, lowering his tone.

"I accept" I smiled, showing off my pearly teeth.

Tholomyes left about ten minutes later, then it began to rain. Thunder rolled and lightening flashed. I sat on the bare wooden floor with my knees pulled to my chest, rocking back and forth – tears running down my face. It was sixteenth birthday today, and I was spending it alone.

Memories of Marie and Marcelin flitted about the room, seeming almost real. I wept even harder. Marcelin would forget me and grow up to be just a farm owner. And Marie didn't know where I was. Monsieur Enjolras had torn me away from a happy world where I belonged, to a cold existence where I was alone. There were two bright sparks however, my job and Tholomyes. They alone brightened the cold, and made me warm.

**__**


	7. And there are storms we cannot weather

Disclaimer : They're Victor Hugo's, not mine.

Author's Notes : I really really don't like this chapter, but it has the short reappearance of Marcelin and Madame Enjolras shows her true colours.. ……read and review please! I live for reviews : ).

****

And there are storms we cannot weather…

The next morning I was up bright and early – as always. I combed my hair in front of my new mirror, tidied my dress and washed my face. I left my bare little building and walked towards the shop.

I was there on time – and Philip showed me around. He also introduced me to the three girls I had seen the day before.

The tallest, prettiest girl was called Favourite. She had long dark hair that fell around her shoulders, dark eyes and white skin the colour of porcelain. She was greatly admired by everyone in the shop because she had lived in England. They said that's why they called her Favourite, but I never understood it. She came from a rich family, her father was a teacher, and she'd had her own room from the age of ten. Favourite was one of those girls who saw herself to be higher than everyone else, and she enjoyed being the leader.

Zephine was very petite with light brown hair that sprung around her face in curls. Marie would have called her "hyperactive" as she was frequently skipping, giggling, gossiping and squealing.

The quietest was Dahlia. A silent girl who I think only ever said a few words to me that first month. She followed Favourite like an obedient puppy, always doing as she was told.

All three wore silk and lace and , with no questions, accepted me as one of their own.

They called me "La Blonde" because of my beautiful hair.

Favourite was already chattering about a man called Thomas, who I guessed was the latest in a long list of men.

"You're so lucky!" cried Zephine. "I wish I could meet someone like Thomas! He's so handsome! I'm just stuck with Jaques!"

Favourite turned to me. "And what of you Fantine La Blonde? What man has taken your fancy?"

At the chance of a bit of gossip Zephine squealed and clapped her hands. "Oh yes! Who is it La Blonde?"

"No one" I said, blushing slightly.

Favourite shrugged, but Zephine looked shocked. "No man friend!!"

"Leave her alone Zephine" Dahlia spoke up. "She's not like you."

Taking no notice Zephine continued "well Jaques has a brother!"

"Zephine I really don't want – " I began, but reasoning with Zephine was like talking to a brick wall.

"He has a cousin too! And a few male friends!"

"Zephine…"

"And an uncle!!"

Philip broke in. "Fantine, your shift has finished."

Thankfully I slipped out.

From then on, Zephine's sole purpose in life seemed to be matchmaking. I was frequently left alone with brothers, cousins and friends of Jaques. The more I told her to stop, the more men arrived in the shop.

Paris still scared me, in a way. It was always busy, the streets were always a sea of people. I only felt safe in my room or in the shop. Tholomyes had cancelled our dinner arrangement, and I'd not heard from him again. But a strange package containing three silk dresses had appeared at my door addressed to "Just Fantine."

I was walking home from work, in my favourite blue dress when I heard a familiar name. One I'd thought I would never hear again.

"Marcelin!" somebody shouted. "Come here!"

I looked around, not daring to believe it. But there he was. The same golden hair, the same blue eyes. He was with a maid I didn't recognise. I wanted to run to him, and hug him – but I couldn't. The maid was already giving me the strangest looks, probably because my eyes didn't leave him for a moment.

Just by chance he turned in my direction and caught sight of me. A smile broke out on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but the maid scooped him up.

"Let's go Marcelin" she said, giving me a wary glance.

"No!" he cried, wriggling in her arms. "Fantine!"

One of his sleeves rolled down, revealing an ugly purple bruise that covered most of his arm. I winced, seeing that his father was the same as ever.

The maid hurried quickly off through the streets, I followed them (keeping in the shadows) to one of the large town houses where wealthy families came to stay for the summer.

Madame was waiting by the door, and a strange look passed over her face when she saw the maid carrying her son.

"Janette?" she asked. "What is the matter?"

The maid placed Marcelin by the door and he spun round, his eyes searching the streets.

His mother touched him on the shoulder. "Your sisters are upstairs, why don't you join them?"

Marcelin didn't protest and with one last glance, entered the house. Janette and his mother followed.

I darted from my hiding place, across the street and along the wall of the house. I stopped underneath a small window (which I assumed was the parlour) when I heard Madame's voice.

"Janette?" she said. "Why were you holding Marcelin like that? He is six now, I don't appreciate…"

"Madame!" Janette interrupted. "I apologise, but I was afraid."

"Of what?"

"A girl followed us. She was only seventeen or so. Marcelin recognised her."

"What did she look like?" Madame sounded concerned.

"He knew her name Madame. He called her Fantine."

There was a smash, which made me jump.

Madame spoke, and her voice shook. "Oh, how clumsy of me. I am very sorry Janette."

"It's fine Madame. Just a bit of water. I'll get rid of this glass, don't want the children stepping in it."

"No, no, of course not."

A door opened and closed. There was a brief silence, then the sound of someone crying.

I reached up, placed my hands on the windowsill and pulled myself off the ground so I could see through the window.

Madame was curled up in a chair in the corner of the room, crying sadly.

I felt myself falling, and quickly kicked my foot into the wall and scrambled upwards.

The noise startled Madame and she looked at the window – her eyes coming to a stop on my face.

I expected to be greeted, or at least pulled through the window – but Madame just stared at me.

"Why are you here Fantine?" she asked.

"I live here. In Paris I mean."

"That wasn't what I meant."

I understood "I wanted to see Marcelin."

"You have seen him" she said. "You saw him more than I did. When I did see him, all he'd talk about was you."

She placed her cold hands over mine, which still clung to the windowsill. "You always had an influence on him. Even more than me. And I'm his mother!"

She dug her nails into my hands, and I cried out.

"Leave us alone!" Madame growled.

"But…" I protested.

"But I took you in? I liked you Fantine, at first. You were just an errand girl and you went too far."

She pushed her hands forward and I fell, landing on the spot where I had been standing. Above me, Madame closed the windows.

Stunned, I got up and wandered back into the streets – straight into a figure.

"Just Fantine! We must stop meeting like this!"

"Tholomyes…"

"I see you like the dresses"

"Very much so, thank you."

He looked at me solemnly. "What's the matter? Why is your hand bleeding?"

I glanced at my hands and they were bleeding, from five little cuts on each set of knuckles. In my dreamlike state I hadn't noticed.

"What happened?"

"I – nothing."

He looked uncomfortable. "Have you eaten?"

I thought for a moment. "Not since yesterday….Tholomyes I should be getting home."

"Not when you haven't eaten for a whole day. Come with me" he offered me his arm.

Sighing, I linked my arm through his and we set off through Paris. 

**__**


	8. Now life has killed the dream

Disclaimer : They all belong to Victor Hugo, and he won't let me have them.

Author's Notes : The first of a double update, next part coming later! Another little nothingy chapter I'm afraid : ). But after this one all the chapters have some importance, so it's okay. Quick thank you to Happy Hobo (interesting name you have there) for taking the time to review, it means a lot to me. So read and review everyone!!! 

****

Now life has killed the dream….

Tholomyes didn't seem to have an idea where we were going for dinner. He wandered about aimlessly, giving my bleeding knuckles occasional wary glances.

"We should get you a bandage"

"It's fine" I told him. "I don't even feel anything." That was a lie, Madame had very sharp nails and my poor hands were stinging horribly.

Shrugging he begin to tear his sleeve.

"What are you doing?"

"Making a bandage" he tore it off in one long strip, divided it into two and wrapped it around my hands. "There we go."

"Thank you"

We wandered for a bit longer, stopping in front of places only for Tholomyes to announce - "ugly", "infested with rats", "I had an argument with the chef, he'll spit in our food", "infested with poor students who want to change the world" and just plain "dull." 

"I don't mean to whine" I said. "But I haven't eaten since yesterday."

Tholomyes spun around and crowed "there! A restaurant fit for a queen!"

It was fit for a queen. Candles, nice looking food and well-dressed people. Self-consciously I smoothed the creases on my dress, it was slightly worse for wear from my fall.

Tholomyes strode confidently through the door, telling the waiter to get him a table for two. As I silently followed, I knew it was a bad idea – the staff looked me up and down, a few people laughed and glamorous women began to whisper to each other.

Their whispers and giggles blended together in a humming noise that flowed round my brain, desperate to get away from it – I ran.

I ran and ran. Where I was going I don't know. I still didn't know Paris and after turning another corner I found myself to be lost. Trying to go back the way I came I took another wrong turn and slipped. My dress gave a loud rip and I landed on my hands and knees.

"Fantine" someone touched my shoulder. "What's the matter?"

I didn't need to look up to see who it was. "Leave me alone Tholomyes."

"Not when you're in this state" he tried to pull me up, but the second his hand touched my waist I let out a loud scream.

"I said leave me alone. You don't care about me –I'm just some urchin girl you gave a room too. I'm not even fit to be seen with you!" 

He took a deep swallow and spoke in the most serious tone I'd ever heard him use. "Fantine, I don't understand you. You always seem so distant, always crying. You won't accept gifts as acts of kindness, only of pity. And why was your hand bleeding? They were nail marks, any fool could see that."

I looked at him, and saw only concern in his eyes. And so I told him. Everything. About the farm, why I'd lost my job and what Madame had done.

Tholomyes did all the right things. He held my hand, had all the right opinions. "Poor Fantine" he said quietly. "You're welcome to stay in my room as long as you need it." Then he hastily scribbled something on a piece of paper he grabbed from his pocket. "This is my address, if you ever need anything just come by. My housekeeper will let you in."

He then walked me home, the first time I walked with him in silence. When we reached my door he awkwardly kissed my cheek. Then blushed and hurried away. 

**__**


	9. Love would never die

Disclaimer : *sigh* Not mine……

Author's Notes : Ooooooo, reviews! Marzoog – That has got to be one of the nicest reviews I've ever had, thank you so much! Eponine87 - *hugs* THANK YOU!! I've never had anyone review for my story so much before. Next fic I write I'm dedicating it to you two!

****

Love would never die

The Enjolras family left their town house the very next day – I watched them leave from an alley way across the street, guessing I would never see them again. Later when I recalled it to Tholomyes I told him I felt calm. "Like some part of my past had slipped away." He agreed, and together we toasted the future.

The rest of the year flew by in a mix of dinners with Tholomyes and measuring rich ladies for dresses. I was now seventeen. Or as Favourite put it "a very young seventeen." Which I was – eternally innocent and naïve. Amazed by the smallest things.

I had the largest circle of friends I'd ever known. Tholomyes introduced Favourite, Dahlia and the still irritatingly happy Zephine to his three friends – Blachevelle, Fameuil and Listolier.

Fameuil and Zephine paired up straight away and I can safely say that they were the most tiring couple I've ever known. Everything they ever said was followed by an exclamation mark, and they both had an annoying habit for squealing.

Blachevelle won Favourite over when he informed us all that his father was very rich and had a big house in the Alps which he'd probably inherit. After that Favourite couldn't keep herself away from him.

Listolier was a quietly spoken boy who attached himself to Dahlia. Together they were a very quiet couple, but very content.

I didn't like Blachevelle or Fameuil, but Listolier was wonderful. Quietly spoken with blonde hair and blue eyes, people often mistook us for brother and sister.

The eight of us would travel in a "double – foursome". Three couples, and Tholomyes and I.

"What's going on there Fantine?" Favourite asked.

"We're friends" I told her, blushing. "Just friends."

"Oh come off it. I've seen the way he looks at you."

I turned a deeper shade of pink.

"Leave her alone Favourite" Dahlia stuck up for me.

"You're always so mean to her!" exclaimed Zephine.

"Well I  just think it's rather strange." Favourite said, before continuing with her work.

I sighed and went for a walk, desperate to get away.

As always I met Tholomyes coming the opposite way.

"Fantine La Blonde!" he crowed. "Where are you going to?"

"Home, I suppose."

"Ah, why so melancholy?"

I wrinkled my nose. "Melan – what?"

"Melancholy – sad or gloomy"

"I'm not sad! Or gloomy!"

He stared at me. "Really?"

"Well it's Favourite –"

"I thought as much. Quite bossy isn't she?"

"Just a bit. She thinks we're strange."

"We?"

In a rush I told him what Favourite had said. "But you don't do you?"

He looked solemn.

"Love me, I mean you're like a brother. You've been so kind and –"

He silenced me by planting a firm kiss on my lips.

I jumped back almost instantly. "What are you doing?"

"Answering your question."

I opened my mouth, then shut it.

"Fantine, I love you."

I turned a bright shade of red. "No one's ever said that to me before."

He looked astounded. "But a girl as lovely as yourself must have had beaus."

"None"

"Then" he encircled his arms around my waist. "Could I be the first?"

"Tholomyes…"

"Yes?"

"This isn't because you feel sorry for me?"

"Heavens no!" he exclaimed. "It's because you are the most wonderful, beautiful person I've ever met. And I knew it the moment I walked into you outside that shop."

I smiled. "I think I did too. Just didn't realise it."

He grinned at me, then kissed me again. This time I responded.

"Finally!" Favourite said, as the eight of us dined that evening. "I always knew –"

"Don't Favourite" Dahlia smiled. "Leave them be."

"We have a lot to thank Favourite for" Tholomyes said. "It was her meddling that made me the happiest man alive." He smiled at me.

I smiled at him, and he kissed my forehead. I did love him, very much. He was kind and so nice to me. I dreamed that our love would never die, and that we would have many happy years together before finally starting a family.

How wrong I was…

**__**


	10. My Cosette

Disclaimer : Well as this is the tenth chapter, they all now belong to me! *laughs evilly*…………Okay, they belong to Victor Hugo.

Author's Notes : REVIEWS!!! TheLark – I can't believe you reviewed. I love your writing and to have someone who's fics I've read for so long review mine just made me very very happy. *hugs* Happy Hobo – Well yeah! In the book it clearly states that Tholomyes was Fantine's first and she isn't even a prostitute right now, so I don't understand what you mean in your review. Otherwise thank you for your nice comment, it really means a lot to me.

Well there was going to be a big Fantine/Tholomyes sex scene here, but I realised that I'm the worst sex scene writer ever. So if you came in expecting some Fantine/Tholomyes action, I apologise. Let's just assume they've done it, k?

****

My Cosette

Nineteen years old! Nineteen and still so young. For two years our happy "double-foursome" existed. Three couples who argued constantly, and one pair who were so in love they believed nothing existed except for them. Or, looking back, that should read – one pair, a man who was in it for fun and a girl who devoted herself completely to him.

Completely. Tholomyes was my first everything. The first person to show me true kindness, the first person to say they loved me, my first kiss and my first lover. He was my first, but I wasn't his.

I loved him a whole lot more than he loved me, I know that now.

"Fantine are you all right?" Dahlia asked, concerned. "You don't look well."

"I'm fine" I replied. "Thank you."

But I wasn't. I felt sick, I threw up most mornings and –

"You've put on weight" Favourite smirked. "Around your stomach."

I folded my arms around my waist protectively. "I know. Thank you." Then I promptly ran off to the back room to be sick. I knew what was wrong, and I guessed Favourite did too.

"She's pregnant!" I heard her announce as I made my way back to the shop.

"Favourite don't say such things.." Dahlia said softly.

"Do you think so?" cried Zephine. "How do you know?"

"It's obvious" Favourite replied, in her know-it-all voice. "Morning sickness, putting on weight.."

"Maybe she's just ill" Dahlia said.

"Dahlia you'll believe anything" Favourite stated. "She's pregnant and that's the end of it."

I whimpered, wanting more than anything to be home. Favourite was right of course. I wasn't sure myself, how could I afford to go to a doctor and have it confirmed? But I always remember one of the urchin girls who got pregnant one winter telling me "even if you don't have it confirmed you just know. You can feel it inside you."

And I could feel it inside me. I hadn't told Tholomyes, he was away and had been for seven months or so – visiting relatives. I had pulled the stitching out of most of my dresses, so they hung loosely over my now large stomach. Favourite, of course, still noticed.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Dahlia entered. "Are you sure you're all right?" she asked, big brown eyes searching my face. "Maybe you should go home"

I thanked her. "Would you mind?"

"Not at all. Go out the back way though, Favourite's in one of her moods."

I smiled, and slipped out.

I can remember the night that urchin girl had the baby. It was raining and she was screaming in time with the lighting and thunder, so not to scare the little ones. I sat beside her holding her hand, and assuring her it would be fine while our oldest urchin attempted to deliver the baby. When the baby came, we all sat up – waiting for a cry that didn't come. It was a little boy we named Jacques, born and buried on the same day.

Halfway home, I felt a shooting pain through my stomach, which made me cry out. A passer by stopped and asked it I was all right.

I replied that I was fine, and hurried to my room. The pain continued, they got worse. They weren't just in my stomach, they were growing – taking me over. I couldn't stop groaning and crying.

I know what it is. I prepare myself, lying on the bare floor of my room and pulling off my underclothes. I start to push, hard pushes that take all of my energy. The woman who lives upstairs starts banging on the floor, asking what's wrong.

One final, agonising push and my baby is born in a hot, slippery rush. And it cries. Loudly.

I'm crying myself, from shock (even thought it wasn't a shock) as I use a knife from the kitchen to cut the umbilical cord. I had to do that for the girl under the bridge too, as she screamed at me to disconnect her from the poor, dead baby. I place the baby on my lap and attempt to sooth it.

Her. It's a girl, and she's beautiful. Her eyes are still shut and her tiny hands and feet are balled up as she cries but she's still beautiful. I bathe her, trying to get off the remains of the blood, and she quietly goes to sleep in my arms. On the spot I name her Euphrasie. It's a name I hate, but it's the name of Tholomyes's mother and I know he'll approve. But I call her Cosette – a name I love.

I was sitting there content, when I glanced at the calendar Tholomyes had bought for me. August the twenty third. And next to it was written (in Tholomyes's neat hand writing, as I could only sign my name) _Tholomyes home today. He'll come to visit you as soon as he can._ I choked, almost jumping up and waking the baby. How can I tell him? Why didn't I write to him when I first suspected I was pregnant?

It's too late to think of explanations, only thirty minutes later Tholomyes enters holding a vase of flowers. He kisses my forehead and smiles at the sleeping baby. My heart leaps.

"Who's that?" he whispers.

"It's Euphrasie" I reply shyly.

He grins. "Same name as my mother". He walks in the direction of the kitchen calling back "who's baby is she?"

I swallow deeply, clear my throat and reply "ours."

There's a smash from the kitchen, Tholomyes has obviously dropped the vase. He runs back to me. "OURS?"

I nod.

"Fantine.." he runs his hands through his hair. "Oh my…"

"Won't you hold her?" I ask. "She won't cry or anything."

But he's gone. Almost halfway through my sentence he turned on his heel and went through the door. Something he grew accustomed to doing in later years.

I try to convince myself he's gone to buy a present for Cosette, but soon scold myself for being so trusting. After feeding her, Cosette and I go to sleep – she in my bed and me on the floor.

* * *

The next day Tholomyes comes back.

"Where did you go?" I ask, wringing my hands.

"I had to think things over" he replies. "Can I see……it?"

"Euphrasie" I tell him, annoyed. But I go to fetch her, and Tholomyes sits happily with her on his lap for an hour. Then he leaves, saying he'll be back tomorrow.

He isn't.

The day after he returns full of promises – telling me to finish my job and look after Cosette full time. I obey, telling Philip I have found a placement elsewhere.

For a month Tholomyes doesn't come. The lady in the room above looks after the "darling child" when we go out in the double-foursome.

When we separate into our pairs I grab Tholomyes's wrists. "Why haven't you come to see her?"

"What?….Oh Fantine, I've been very busy…."

"You liar!" I scream.

He looks taken back but replies in a tone as loud as my own. "I go away for SEVEN MONTHS and when I come back it's just "oh Tholomyes – here's our baby. Won't you hold her?". I can't just fit into that Fantine! I need time to adjust, it's too much too soon. Why didn't you write to me, warn me?" He pauses, then bellows "how do I even know if she's mine?!?"

I jump. "What?"

"Favourite tells me you've been getting quite a name about the place.."

"Favourite?"

"When the cat's away the mouse will play, is it?"

"You know what she's like! I would never…"

"She seemed honest to me!"

I burst into tears, and bury my head in my hands. I hear him turn and walk away, before changing his mind and coming back.

"I'm sorry Fantine" he says softly, putting his arms around me. "I'll come soon, I promise".

He doesn't.

**__**


	11. Love was blind

Disclaimer: They're still not mine….

Author's Notes: Ooo, I think that's the longest I've been without an update! : ) But I was auditioning for my college's version of Les Mis – really really hope I've got Fantine! Anyways, reviews! You guys are so nice. Eponine87 – I'm running out of ways to thank you! Thanks again for reviewing In Search of Happiness too. Happy Hobo – Awwww, I'm glad you liked Baby Cosette – she'll be back in this chapter. Peakechick – I'm so honoured that this is the first thing you've read! *blushes* And it's always nice to see another Fantine fan. Shandethe Sanders – Thank you! You're a very talented writer, just read some of your fics. Marzoog – Thank you again! It really means a lot to me.

****

Love was blind

Why did I stay with him? He'd as good as called me a whore, and yet I still loved him. Why? I didn't even know the answer. We kept up the charade of being a happy couple in the double-foursome, but really our relationship had fallen apart. Neither of us seemed to want to admit it.

Cosette was our secret. No one except Tholomyes, the woman upstairs and myself knew about her. Favourite had once remarked that I had lost my extra weight very quickly, but went no further. With no job, I spent all my time in my room with Cosette. Tholomyes provided for us – we never went hungry.

It had been almost a year, and still he didn't come to see her. He would drop off dresses for her, but never seemed to want to see his daughter. I was forbidden to take her outside, in case someone saw and then what would people think of him? The woman upstairs was a godsend though, and frequently took Cosette out to feed the ducks and for little walks. Things I'd never done in my childhood.

She is the prettiest child I've ever seen – but being her mother I'm a little biased. Chestnut curls from her father, and her mother's big blue eyes. She's just starting to walk, holding on to things and pulling herself along. She's very content, and laughs at everything.

August the twenty-third. Cosette's first birthday, we didn't have a party – but I tried my best to let her know the day was special. No parcel arrived from Tholomyes, he'd probably surprise us later. I'd slaved all day to make a little cake for Cosette, which she ate in two mouthfuls – promptly spilling crumbs all down her dress.

"Cosette!" I scolded, brushing her off. "Be careful.."

There was a sharp knock on the door, Cosette smiled and pointed.

"Yes, you can go and answer it" I told her, crossing my fingers.

Holding onto the table, Cosette edged herself to the door before finally reaching up and opening it – coming face to face with Tholomyes.

"Oh" he said, looking flustered. "I….is your mother in?" . He spotted me, "Fantine!"

I scanned his arms, no present. "It's Cosette's first birthday" I reminded him.

"So it is.."

"Did you forget?"

"No….I remembered. How could I forget?" he paused for a while, then touched my arm. "We're all going out next week, just for the day or something……us men have got a surprise for you."

I brightened up. "A surprise? What kind of a surprise? Is it something for me and Cosette?"

"I dare say it will effect you and Euphraise…very much"

I smiled at him. He was coming back to us! We could be a family at last! Trying not to let him know I'd caught on, I replied "I'll look forward to it."

"Remember, next Wednesday. I'll come to pick you up."

I nodded, and he left – without a backward glance at Cosette.

**__**


	12. When autumn came

Disclaimer: Still not mine…

Author's Notes: My final audition for Fantine is on Friday (down to the final four!), so keep your fingers crossed for me. I'll let you know how I do. More reviews! : ). Eponine87 - *hugs* Thank you Mika! Again : ). Happy Hobo – Alrighty….*gives happy hobo some cake*. Rosie – Thank you so much! I just hope you're right about me being a perfect Fantine *blushes*. Anyway on with the story….we all know what's coming…

****

When autumn came

On that Wednesday I was up bright and early to brush my hair, wash my face and tidy my dress. I did the same to Cosette – dressing her in her prettiest dress and combing her chestnut curls until they shone.

"What's the occasion?" the woman upstairs asked when I went to drop Cosette off.

"Cosette's father will be coming back with us tonight" I smiled. "And I want her to look her best."

The woman smiled back at me, and took Cosette inside. I hurried downstairs, where (as promised) Tholomyes was waiting.

"You look nice today" he said quietly.

"Thank you"

"And Euphraise, is she well?"

"She's fine. But you'll probably find that out for yourself later."

He blinked and looked a little confused. I ignored him and we proceeded to walk arm in arm through the golden autumn leaves to where the rest of our double-foursome was waiting.

On that day we had a wonderful time. We breakfasted at the Tete-Noire, had fun tossing quoits by the big pond, climbed up to the Lantern of Diogenes, bet macaroons on the gambling-wheel on the Pont de Sevres, picked bunches of flowers at Puteaux, bought cream-puffs at Neuilly and ate apple-turnovers everywhere.

I was the happiest I'd ever been, wanting to get to the surprise so Tholomyes and I could go home and be with our daughter. I wondered, would he reveal the surprise in front of everyone or in private?

We came to a great swing, slung behind the chestnut-trees. Taken over for a moment with memories of Marcelin, who had once had a swing just like it, I refused myself to be swung.

"I don't like people who give themselves airs" Favourite said sharply. Then she turned to Tholomyes. "But the surprise? When do we get the great surprise?"

I gave him a strange look, how did _she_ know about my surprise? I let it pass though, assuming that he was planning to reveal the start of our happy new life in front of everyone.

"You must be patient" Tholomyes said, glancing at me.

After a drunken dinner where Tholomyes kissed Favourite instead of me, he informed us all that it was time for the "great surprise". I sat up straight in my chair, a big smile on my face. The four men kissed their respective women on the forehead, and then left in a solemn line.

Favourite laughed. "It's fun already!"

"Don't be too long" I murmured, thinking of Cosette and me. "We shall be waiting."

"What do you think they'll bring us ?!" exclaimed Zephine.

"Something nice, I'm sure" said Dahlia.

"I hope it will be something in gold" Favourite mused.

"They're being very slow" I sighed, my eyes never leaving the door. Where had he gone? Maybe to collect Cosette and bring her to me?

The waiter who had served our meal reappeared holding a letter. "It was left behind by the gentlemen" he explained. "To be given to the ladies."

Favourite snatched it from him and told us it was labelled "here is the surprise".

I was more confused than ever. A surprise for all of us?

Favourite read aloud:

Beloved mistresses!

Be it known to you that we have parents. They want us back. Being dutiful, we obey. When you read these lines five fiery horses will be taking us home.

For nearly two years we have made you happy. Do not bear us illwill.

Signed: Blachevelle, Fameuil, Listolier and Felix Tholomyes.

I felt as though someone had punched me in the stomach, desperately trying not to cry. How could he leave me? And Cosette! Because their parents wanted them home! I bit my lip. Cosette wanted her parents home, but she didn't get what she wanted.

Dahlia however was smiling. "It was Tholomyes's idea. It's typical!"

I glared at her, how could she be so insensitive? Wasn't she upset that her beloved Listolier was gone?

"In that case, long live Tholomyes!" cried Favourite.

All three repeated this, and dissolved into laughter. I joined in – my laughter sounding slightly hysterical. A few minutes later, I excused myself and hurried from the table.

When I was sure I was far enough away I collapsed onto the ground, sobbing. Suddenly I felt someone patting me on the shoulder, and I admit I thought it was Tholomyes – returning to tell me it was all a joke.

It wasn't though, it was Dahlia.

"Go away" I spat at her.

"What's the matter?" she asked, looking awkward.

"Are you completely stupid?" I growled. "Did you just hear the same letter I did? Aren't you at least a little upset that Listolier is gone?"

Dahlia shook her head. "He's….he's coming back for me."

I shook my head. "Don't be so naïve Dahlia. He's not coming back, none of them are. I've been left alone with a ch –". I cut off, realising what I had been about to say.

Dahlia stared at me. "With a what?"

I stood up and ran away. Ran all the way home. Dahlia followed me, but she wasn't quick enough. I hurried upstairs and hammered on the door.

The woman opened it. "Oh lovely. Cosette has been looking forward to…..where is he?"

"Just let me have my daughter" I told her. "Please."

With a sad look the woman ushered Cosette out the door. She smiled up at me expectantly. "Where?"

"He's not coming" I told her. "I'm sorry."

The second I was in the safety of my own room I wept bitterly. Cosette wiped away my tears, not even understanding why I was crying.

**__**


	13. And her father abandoned us

Disclaimer: Still not mine..

Author's Notes: Big news…I GOT FANTINE! *runs around screaming*. Thanks to everyone who had their fingers crossed for me, rehearsals start on Wednesday. TheLark – Tholomyes is a dork! And sadly becomes more of one in this chapter. Happy Hobo – Yes, I will be going all the way up to her death. Marzoog – This is the only Miz fic you read? *looks important* Thank you! Eponine87 – Thanks again Mika. I'll e-mail you later. Rosie – Thanks for keeping your fingers crossed! Anyways, on with the story!

****

And her father abandoned us

Cosette grew more and more with every day. Her hair shone in chestnut curls down her back, her eyes were a huge azure blue and she could walk unaided. She smiled at everything – the most content child I'd ever known. Although I only had one dress (having sold all my others), Cosette had a glittering wardrobe given to her by the woman living above us. She couldn't bear to see the "darling child go around in rags". 

I went to Philip and begged for my job back, but he had already employed someone else. The only girl left I recognised was Zephine.

"Favourite's gone back to England!" she squealed. "And Dahlia has found a new job!"

"She's still in Paris though?"

"Yes!" Zephine pondered for a moment and spoke in a more serious tone. "She lives in a room in the big green houses by the river. Number eight, on the top floor. You should visit her Fantine, she always liked you."

"I will. Thank you Zephine."

I hurried home, repeating Dahlia's address in my head, and collected Cosette from the lady upstairs.

"Mama!" she said. "A letter came for you!"

"A letter?" I asked. "Who would send me a letter?"

"Aren't you going to open it?" the lady asked.

I frowned. "I can't read. And I have to visit a friend tonight. Come along Cosette."

Cosette clutched my hand as we walked through Paris – chattering in that language of two-year-olds.

A man was walking towards us with a pretty little boy who must have been about six-years-old. He had blonde curls, and was meekly trying to get as far away from the old man as possible.

"Marius!" the old man barked. "Stay close to me boy!"

Marius bowed his head and took two steps nearer his grandfather.

I gave him a gentle smile, and he grinned back before fixing his eyes on Cosette.

"Marius!" his grandfather said. "What are you staring at now?"

"Nothing grandfather!" he replied, and with one backward glance at Cosette, he was hurried away by his grandfather.

"Why was that man shouting?" Cosette asked, wide eyed.

"I have no idea darling" I told her, before coming to a stop in front of the green houses by the river. Cosette and I entered and went to the top floor.

"Number eight" I said, after counting the doors. Cosette knocked and Dahlia answered.

"Fantine!" she exclaimed, embracing me. "How are you?"

"I'm…" I thought for a moment. "I've been better."

Cosette slipped in front of me. "Hello."

"Hello" Dahlia smiled. "And who are you?"

"I'm called Cosette" she replied, with a little curtsey.

"My daughter" I explained. "Tholomyes's daughter."

Dahlia's eyes filled with pity, and she clasped my hand. "Well come in. Both of you."

Suddenly Listolier appeared behind her. "I'm just going –" he noticed me and his voice trailed off.

"I'm just inviting Fantine in, Bernard. Is that all right?"

"Yes!" he looked uncomfortable. "Of course."

I finally found my voice. "What are you doing here? Aren't you with your parents?"

He smiled sadly. "Rather like you I have no parents. I came back for Dahlia. I'd never leave her. I love her too much."

Dahlia elbowed him.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "I'm sorry. I –"

"Just go" Dahlia told him.

He kissed her, then left.

"Are you living together?" I asked, as we entered her room.

"Yes" she replied. "I'm sorry about –"

"It's fine!" I cut in. "I always knew you two were perfect for each other."

"Really?" she looked pleased, then noticed the letter I was holding. "What's that?"

"A letter. I can't read, so…"

"I could read it for you"

But you can't read!"

She smiled. "I can. I never said anything because Favourite always liked being the only one who could too much."

We sent Cosette off to play dress up in Dahlia's wardrobe, and Dahlia began to read:

__

Dear Just Fantine,

Do you remember I used to call you that? Back when I met you outside the dress shop, that's how you replied to me asking your name. "Just Fantine" you said. You were only fifteen then, as I recall. Now you're twenty-two with a baby. I understand I have left you both in a bit of a state, this letter is my attempt to redeem myself.

There is no easy way for me to say this Fantine, but I'm married. With two children. My wife is a girl I met in my hometown, over ten years ago. I do love her, but we were having some problems when I went to Paris and met a beautiful girl outside a dress shop. It was not my parents who wanted me home, it was my wife and it is with her I am now. She doesn't know about you Fantine and I intend to keep it that way. Please don't try to stir up trouble between us. Take care of yourself and Eupharise. Feel free to tell her whatever you want about me. The room you are currently living in no longer belongs to me – you will have to pay rent to the new landlord.

Felix Tholomyes

I jumped up. "Oh well."

Dahlia tried to pull me back down. "Fantine, I'm so sorry".

"Cosette!" I called. "We're going!"

My daughter reappeared. "But I like it here."

I grabbed her hand. "Thank you Dahlia."

I ran all the way home, dragging Cosette behind me. When we got to our room I remembered it wasn't going to be our room for much longer. So I wept. Cosette (terrified something was wrong with me) wept too.

What became of Dahlia and Listolier I don't know, but I imagine they are happily married with a whole crowd of children.

**__**


	14. Take my child

Disclaimer: They're still not mine…

Author's Notes: Sorry it's been awhile, busy with rehearsals and such. Thanks to everyone who said well done for getting the part, it means a lot. Eponinenkind – Yay Mika! Now write something now we can all review it : ). Rosie – I was actually going to kill him, but thought it would be better if I'd given him a REASON for leaving. TheLark - *g* I love my baron too! I'm such a Marius fan, it's slightly scary : ). Marzoog – L.M.Montgomery…..is that Anne of Green Gables? Or am I thinking of someone else…Happy Hobo – Thank you! I agree, there wasn't really a reason for him leaving in the book. I didn't get it either. Sandethe Sanders – You really are a talented writer, and I look forward to seeing more fics from you.

****

Take my child

Fourteen months had passed since my love's "merry prank". Cosette was now two, and completely blissful to all the trouble we were in. I hadn't been able to find another job, and the new landlord raised the rent to almost double what it had been. I sold everything we owned, except Cosette's bed and dresses, and we moved into a tiny attic room near the docks. It was barely big enough for one person, let alone two. I used some of our money to hire a letter writer. He wrote to Tholomyes (at my dictation), reminding him that Cosette still existed but I received a nasty reply – telling me his wife had nearly opened the letter and I was "not to bother" him again. Sadly I did another trek of Paris, but there were still no jobs. I decided to return to Montreuil-sur-mer, hoping someone there would recognise me and offer me work. The walk was long, I didn't know what I would do with my daughter.

So Cosette and I left Paris. A girl of twenty-two with her baby on her back. Cosette walked a little of the way, but soon gave up. I carried her in my arms, and she slowly went to sleep. I stared at her as I walked. I can't support her anymore, I know I can't. And she'll never make the walk to Montreuil-sur-mer. I have no idea what I'm going to do until we reach a village not far from Paris called Montfermeil.

I came across a tavern, decorated with a painting called "The Sergeant of Waterloo". Outside two pretty little girls were playing on what looked like a swing. One looked Cosette's age, the other just a baby. Their mother, a robust woman with red hair, was sat in the doorway watching them closely and singing.

I raised my voice. "You have two very pretty children, Madame".

She glanced at me and her eyes widened. I knew I looked bad, and her distaste was obvious as she scanned my rough and calloused hands. However she thanked me, and invited me to sit beside her.

"My name is Thernardier" she said. "My husband and I keep this inn."

I blinked. Thernardier? Where had I heard that before? I waved the thought away, it was a common enough name. I told Madame Thernardier that I was a working mother. "My…husband….has died, and I'm looking for work in Montreuil-sur-mer. I can't take her with me, she couldn't walk the way here. She'll never make it."

Cosette awoke at that point, and I gently sent her to play with the other girls.

Madame Thernardier watched her. "What is her name?"

"Cosette"

"How old is she?"

"Nearly three?"

Madame Thernardier watched our children. "Look at them. They might be sisters."

Such a casual remark, but it changed Cosette's life forever. I glanced over at her, she was happily playing with the two girls – they'd found a beetle or something in the ground and were poking it with a stick. She would be happy here, with children of her own age. I grabbed Madame Thernardier's hand, "will you look after my daughter for me?"

She started slightly.

"I can't take her with me where I'm going. I have to find work and it's not easy if you have a child. I could pay six franks a month."

A man's voice came from inside the inn. "No less than seven, and six months in advance."

Madame informed me "six times seven makes forty two."

"Very well" I replied.

"And another fifteen for extras" the man called.

"Total, fifty seven franks" Madame Thernardier stated.

"I've got eighty with me" I said. The last of my money. "I'll find work and when I've saved enough money I'll come for her."

The man's voice asked "does she have enough clothes?"

I smiled, they did care about her already! "Certainly, she has a beautiful wardrobe. They're all in my bag."

And so the bargain of my daughter was complete. I stayed the night in the tavern, paid the money and clutched Cosette.

She blinked at me, not understanding where I was going.

"I love you" I said. "And I'll be back soon I promise."

She stood in the doorway watching me leave, waving continuously like Marcelin had done.

I made my way into the street and broke down in tears. "But I'll see her soon" I kept repeating. "I'll come back for her."

I wept all the way to Montreuil-sur-mer.

**__**


	15. As they tear your hope apart

Disclaimer: They're STILL not mine…

Author's Notes: OooOooOo, reviews! Eponinenkind: Erk! I knew I'd spelt Thenardier wrong! If I have time, I will go back and change it. The Lark: I wish I could give this a happy ending! Maybe I'll just throw the idea out the window and have Fantine, Valjean and Cosette to go live in a big house in the country : ). I have a feeling I'd get flamed though. Rosie: Don't worry! This story will be finished, it always annoys e when you see a good fanfic…and it hasn't been updated for about two years : ). Happy Hobo – I know that chapter was very book-copish, I may go back and edit it later. I'll try not to make the other chapters like that. Marzoog: I don't know how and can't give it a sad ending. The poor woman does die after all. If you have an idea though, I'd like to hear it : ). I'll have to look out for more L.M.Montogomery books, I really liked "Anne of Green Gables" and it's sequels. Estella Havisham: Wow, thank you! I would have made Victor proud? *blushes* Well….the award for the nicest review EVER goes to Estella! *hands Estella an award*

Well this chapter is for the girl who sent me a very long and persuasive e-mail telling me to write another chapter catching up on poor Enjy. So here it is!

****

As they tear your hope apart

The walk home was terrible, my poor Cosette would never of made it. I took regular intervals, to sleep in ditches, and was "home" in about three days. Instead of walking through town I took the prettier route through the woods, and saw something that jerked me from thoughts of my aching feet.

I'd forgotten about it really, so much had happened in the past few years that I wouldn't have remembered a house. It still stood there, on top of the hill proudly looking down on the town. Still white with majestic columns. And. I guessed, still the Enjolras house. 

As much as I willed my feet to continue straight on, I turned up the cart path. The same one I'd caught my ride to Paris from. 

"Father!" a girl's voice cried, and I ducked behind a tree. Two girls passed, almost in front of me. Both blonde, both petite – I guessed they were the twins, Yvette and Cecile. Six years old now!

They didn't notice me, and continued their walk up towards the house – where a man stood waiting for them. Monsieur Enjolras. His golden hair was greying, he stood with a slight stoop, but still struck fear into me.

He smiled as he embraced his daughters, then they made their way to a small alcove of trees near to where I was standing. They disappeared inside, then reappeared looking solemn. All three then returned to the house.

I came out from behind the tree, and went into the alcove. It was a grave. I choked – not wanting to look in case it was Marcelin.

Christine Enjolras 1787-1815

Beloved mother to Marcelin, Yvette and Cecile

In front of the headstone lay three pink roses, and one purple iris. I stood still, in shock. How had she died? Why wasn't "dearly missed wife of – " written on her headstone below mother?

I was still pondering this when a boy screamed from behind me. I spun, and ran out of the alcove.

There was a boy, about ten or eleven years old, curled in a ball on the floor screaming while Monsieur Enjolras stood above him – shouting obscenities and kicking him in the stomach.

The boy had golden hair…was skinny for his age…I gasped. It was Marcelin. Poor Marcelin who I should have taken with me.

Someone called Monsieur Enjolras to the house, he gave Marcelin one last kick and strode up towards it.

Marcelin stayed crouched where he was, whimpering softly. I wandered up to him and touched his shoulder. "Marcelin?"

He flinched, and finally looked up at me – revealing a hideous black and yellow bruise which covered the left side of his face. He blinked, and his eyes were full of confusion.

"I should have taken you with me" I said under my breath.

Those same big blue eyes studied my face intently, as though he recognised me but wasn't sure where from. He still said nothing, not moving from his curled position.

"Do you know who I am?" I asked gently.

There was one more quick scan of my face, and he shook his head. A silent gesture that brought tears to my eyes.

"I don't" he spoke finally, more mature than the voice I remembered. Seeing my tears, he added "I'm sorry. But I don't".

I shook my head. "Why would you? It was years ago, you were only five then. I used to work here, some time ago. I used to look after you and…where is Marie?"

"Marie?" he asked. "I don't know a – "

I covered my ears. Why didn't he remember?

He propped himself up on one arm, "I'm sorry. Again"

"It's fine" I told him. Changing the subject I asked "how did your mother die?"

"She fell" he said, his voice showing no emotion. "Out of the window of my father's study."

At the coldness of his tone, I began "But you and your mother were always so close. I remember –"

"I don't" he interrupted. Then shyly he asked "could you help me up? I don't think I could manage alone."

I smiled, snaked an arm around his waist and helped him up. He winced briefly, then studied my face again.

"If you don't mind me saying so, you don't look well" he said.

"I know" I replied dryly. "And you don't either."

His hand went to the bruise on the side of his face. "Sometimes my father – I ask for it really."

"You don't!" I cried. "You should stand up for yourself Marcelin..don't let him –"

Recognition flooded his eyes. "Someone used to say that to me. A long time ago. When I was about five, as I remember. And she left. On a cart. And her name was.."

I looked at him hopefully.

"Fantine" he said.

I laughed, and flung my arms around his neck. "I knew you'd remember me!"

He grinned. "How old are you now?"

"Twenty two" I told him. "With a daughter. Cosette. How old are you?"

"Twelve" he said.

"Twelve!" I exclaimed. "why, it seems like –"

"MARCELIN!" a male voice bellowed. "Where are you boy?"

Marcelin jumped. "It's –"

Monsieur Enjolras was by our side in eight quick strides. In a flash he had hold of my wrists, and had spun me to face him.

"Father!" Marcelin protested. "Don't!"

A well-aimed blow to his already bruised stomach sent Marcelin stumbling to the floor.

"I remember you" Monsieur sneered. "That urchin girl with no last name. Come back have you?." He surveyed my clothes. "Fallen on hard times and need a job?"

I shook my head. "I just came to see Marcelin."

"Kindly be on your way" he gestured to the cart path. "I have enough urchins working for me as it is". He turned to his son. "Come on boy."

Marcelin scrambled to his feet and gave me a terrified look.

"Kindly.Be.On.Your.Way" Monsieur repeated.

Defeated I turned. I was halfway to the cart path when I heard a cry from behind me.

"Fantine! Fantine, you should have taken me with you! After you left… Marie and I – yes I remember her. She was so kind to me. But only a week after you left she disappeared Fantine! Dismissed I bet!". There was a sound of running footsteps and Marcelin was beside me. "Take me with you! I can find work, I can provide for you and your daughter! Fantine please don't leave me here!"

"Boy.." Monsieur threatened, walking towards us.

Just as he'd done all those years ago, Marcelin pulled at my skirts. Even though he was small for his age he was strong and held me from going any further.

"Don't leave me" he screeched, his voice cracking. "This bruise isn't the worst thing he's done!"

"Boy.." Monsieur appeared behind him and with one reeling blow sent me falling to the ground. Gasping, I lay flat on the floor as he caught hold of Marcelin.

"Fantine!" he scrambled for me, but to no avail. His father was dragging him away. "I'll come to Paris!" he yelled. "I'll find you! I'll remember what you used to tell me!"

And, before I could tell him I was no longer in Paris, he was gone. And I never saw him again.

And so, with a newly acquired black eyes, I arrived at the town. As I'd thought, it was easy to find work. No-one remembered me (why would they?), but the new mayor had a factory where I quickly found a job. The work was new to me, and difficult. The pay was not much, but small as it was, it bought me a living.

**__**


	16. The mayor of this town

Disclaimer: I give up…read the other ones : ).

Author's Notes: I apologise for the delay, but with rehearsals and schoolwork I haven't had the time….but now I'm bbaaacckkk!! *cackles evilly*. And I have reviews! Eponinenkind: Well, as a special reward for being my most dedicated reviewer and reviewing when no-one else was in the early chapters…you're going to appear in this chapter! As yourself, naturally : ). Shandethe Sanders: THANK YOU! Valjean "enters the mix" in this chapter…I've never tried to write him before so I hope I've done alright. Happy Hobo : He did hit her, it's the "with a reeling blow sent me stumbling to the ground" bit. Sorry if I didn't make it clear. Rosie: Awwwwww, *gives Rosie a tissue*. The Lark: Argh! Don't mention that "book", I threw my copy down the side of my computer desk after the hundredth Marius/Cosette sex scene *glares at "Cosette"* Thanks though! But I think **anyone** could have done a better job than that woman *blushes*. Marzoog: Thank you! I'll definitely buy more L.M.Montgomery….got paid today *evil grin*. LadyLaura 020: Thanks! And luck you for going to see Les Mis! Estella Havisham: Thank you so much…again.

You guys really make my week so please please please keep reviewing! *hugs all her nice reviewers*

****

The mayor of this town

I could finally make ends meet. The first thing I bought was a large mirror, which I hooked on the wall beside my door. The wall and the door were in my new room, which I'd rented in town. I furnished it simply, a bed, a table and a chair. I dreamed of the day when I finally had enough money to send for Cosette. I kept in touch with her "guardians" through a letter-writer I had hired. I wrote every Friday, inquiring after my daughter, but rarely received replies.

Finding the job had been easy, I'd been walking past the factory (still stunned by the changes that had taken place in my hometown) and outside there was a sign advertising three job placements. Along with me, two other girls were hired – a Parisian called Valentine (I imagine her parents were rather bizarre) and a German named Mika. Valentine I immediately disliked. She looked like me – blonde, blue eyed, but underneath her angelic appearance she was a malevolent creature. Mika was the complete opposite – shy, but she had a wonderful sense of humour, that made all us girls giggle as we worked.

But, except Mika, all the other girls in the woman's workshop disliked me. It was said I "gave myself airs" – something Favourite used to say to me. They would pull my golden hair and call me "La Blonde" in a nasty tone of voice. I was so used to being liked, that even small teasing remarks upset me.

The factory made dresses, suits and all kinds of clothes for the upper classes. Each girl has a loom, which she sits in front of, and she has to thread the material through the strips of string in the loom. These strings are sharp, and I was forever giving myself cuts. There were three rows of eight looms in our workshop, a desk in front of them was where our foreman (an egotistical ugly man) stood. Above him was the office, where our boss (the mayor) occasionally came to work.

Valentine and Mika took to their new work naturally, finishing whole dresses when I had only done a sleeve. Whenever I thought of Cosette or Tholomyes tears would well up in my eyes – the girls would notice and comment nastily.

I had been in my job for two weeks when I met my boss. Mika (daydreaming as usual) was staring out of the window when she cried "it's Monsieur la Maire!" promptly letting go of her fabric and ruining the dress she'd nearly finished.

Mayhem broke out. The mayor only came to his office once every two months, we hadn't expected him to arrive this soon – he preferred to work from his study at home. In a way he'd become a sort of myth – an eccentric man who invited gamins into his home and gave them money, a kind man who made sure his workers were cared for and – 

"A bachelor" cried Valentine, frantically trying to hold onto her loom and comb her hair at the same time.

"He's old enough to be your father!" Mika stared at her.

"I don't care" Valentine turned all her attention to her golden curls. "He's rich".

"He's coming through the gate" Mika said, back at the window.

"Should we be at our looms?" another girl asked.

"I look my best standing" Valentine replied.

We all sat at our looms, as I began to sit down another girl pulled my chair out from under me and I hit the floor with a thud.

Valentine cackled. After chasing men her favourite hobby was teasing me. "What's the matter La Blonde? Don't want to look silly in front of the mayor?"

I grabbed my chair and sat back down.

Valentine opened her mouth to say something but the door opened and the mayor entered. She wasn't at her loom, the only girl standing, her eyes widened and she froze to the spot

The mayor was fifty or so, but stood tall and walked quickly, not at all like an old man. His hair and beard were brown, in the process of going grey. But what always grabbed me about the mayor were his eyes. They were large, brown and…sad. They were eyes that had seen all the world had to offer, all the horrors. It seemed that despite the expensive suit, those eyes were wild. 

He ignored Valentine, who was still rooted in the middle of the room like a lost sheep and moved towards his office. Suddenly his eyes hovered over me.

"Aaah" he spoke quietly and evenly. "One of the new girls?"

"Yes! She is! And I am too!" Valentine spoke up, slightly hysterically, raising her hand in the air.

"I thought I hired three?"

"Oh" Valentine waved her hand in Mika's direction. "And her. I'm Valentine, by the way!!"

The mayor's eyes never left me. "And you are?"

"Fantine, monsieur".

"Just Fantine" Valentine added.

He smiled kindly at me. "And the other girl?"

"That's Mika", Valentine said.

Mika gave the mayor a small wave, he nodded in reply.

"You are all comfortable….I take it?"

"Yes we are!" Valentine chirped up.

"I was addressing Fantine"

"I am monsieur. Very" I assured him. Why did he keep looking at me?

The foreman cleared his throat. "Monsieur Madeline…I believe we have things to discuss in your office."

"Of course…of course" he smiled at me again. "Goodbye Fantine…and Mika." He followed the foreman to his office.

Instantly Valentine rounded on me. "Mayor's pet!"

I tried to get to my loom.

"Looking for a rich old man are we?" she screeched, before pulling my face right up to hers. "I don't like you Fantine, and you've just made you situation a whole lot worse."

Little did I realise how much worse it was.

**__**


	17. Give that letter to me

Disclaimer: *****sniff* But I've already done this! Loads of times! Read the other chapters!

Author's Notes: Again I apologise for the delay! But I had the entire run of Les Mis (from the tenth to the twenty fourth of December) and then Christmas, and then seeing The Two Towers about twenty times to deal with. Anyway I hope all my lovely reviewers had as good a Christmas as I did! On top of tickets to see Phantom in London in two weeks (my first time! If anyone's seen the current London cast leave your thoughts in a review please!), I had the news that I'm my director's first choice to play Lily in The Secret Garden in our college production in February! So I'm very hyper…I apologise : ). Happy Hobo: Yay! Another of my regulars has an account! I'm really loving You Know The Story..it has an edge over all the other modern Miz stories out there. And I will never let this fic die! You have my word : ). Valentine is actually based on the girl who was understudying Cosette…hope she isn't reading this! Enjy was my best friend Christopher, and he really has a powerful voice, so all went well. WeaselSlayer, Ponine 1989, Winter_Lady and Estella Havisham: Thank you all so much! Hanniballover1181: Errr thanks, but I don't really understand the rest of your review. Sorry! Meg: Thanks for the lovely e-mail. Marzoog: Yes, the run is now finished. Thanks for saying I write JVJ well, I was very nervous about writing him for the first time : ). Shandethe_Sanders: Thanks! And Valjean so rules! *hugs JVJ*. Rosie: Thankies! Eponinenkind: Glad you like Mika…er, I mean yourself : ).

I'm going to try and update about three times this week, to make up for the lack of updates over the past month.

****

Give that letter to me

What happened on that day I'll never know for sure, but from what I have found out I will assume the following – Valentine followed me from work to my letter writer, where I asked him to send a letter to "the usual address" enquiring on Cosette's condition. When I'd left Valentine brought him wine and ale, after a few minutes he told her all. About Cosette, the Thenardiers and my past. Gleefully she skipped to work the next day and told everyone what she had learnt. They were all shocked – being an unmarried mother was enough to get me sacked. Only Mika stood true, her influence in the workshop so great that she discouraged them from telling our foreman straight away.

A woman called Madame Victurnien (at fifty-six, the oldest and ugliest in our workshop) paid thirty-five francs to go to Montfermeil and see Cosette. More than I could do – and I was her mother! She announced this fact to the full workroom, making up lies about how Cosette was being ill-treated, causing Mika to loose her temper.

"Why not give Fantine the money and let **her** see her daughter?!?" she screamed, the first time I had ever seen her raise her voice. "What kind of a woman are you?"

This hate campaign against me went on for years. I was now twenty four years old, and a shadow of my former self. Going to see Cosette became a tradition – if you had a few francs spare go to see Fantine's daughter! Women would come back, clicking their tongues at me, saying "well I'd never allow my daughter to live in that **state**". It angered Mika, and she told me to make a formal complaint to the mayor.

"I don't want any trouble" I replied.

Mika alone would have given me the thirty-five francs needed to just catch a glimpse of my daughter, but she had a whole army of brothers and sisters to support and couldn't spare it. I understood. I tried to tell myself that the women were being cruel, saying Cosette was in "a state", but something inside of me disagreed. What if she was in poverty?

"The villagers call her The Lark" one of the women said, back from a visit. "Because she's always up so early, and to bed so late. But she's a lark that doesn't sing."

The other women laughed, not having a maternal bone in their bodies.

I visited my new letter writer (one who respected client confidentiality) and he read aloud a letter I had received that morning:

__

Fantine

Cosette is becoming a great burden, and I am tempted to turn her out on the streets. I am raising the monthly fee to fifteen francs.

M.Thenardier

I choked. "Is he mad? I earn less than that a month!"

It was hopeless. I couldn't leave to rescue my Cosette because I owed money for my rent. I could beg my foreman for money, but it would almost certainly mean a dismissal. I didn't care – _"I am tempted to turn her out on the streets"_. A line that echoed through my head. When work finished I approached the foreman.

"La Blonde" he grinned.

I tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it. "I need some money"

He frowned. "But I would have to – "

"I NEED some money"

"How much?"

I sighed. "Twenty-five?"

"Twenty"

"Twenty-three?"

He pressed up against me. "I'll give you thirty if you –"

I jumped away from him. "I'll take twenty!"

"Ah yes" he laughed, waving his arm in my direction. "The "virtuous" Fantine. I'll give you nineteen"

"But you said…"

He handed me fifteen. "Right my girl.." he slammed his hand on the desk, causing all the girls on their way out to turn around. Seeing he had their attention he bellowed "ON YOUR WAY!"

Valentine laughed.

Mortified, I ran to the door. Mika stopped me half way and slipped ten francs into my pocket. Knowing how much that money meant to her, I pressed her hand gratefully knowing I wouldn't see her again, then left.

But Mika followed. "You should plead your cause to the mayor."

"I'm too ashamed" I told her.

"This is no time to be proud Fantine" Mika said, quietly. "Soon you'll have no other choice. You're unemployed now, you must forget your shame – go to the mayor and ask for some more money."

I was determined to make some money on my own, but after a week I gave in and went to the mayor's house. I was shown into his office, where he sat behind a desk – looking the same as he'd done on that first day.

"Fantine" he said brightly. "What a pleasant – "

"I need some money" I said, no time for politeness.

He looked slightly taken back, but recovered. "How much?"

"I don't know. Twenty maybe?"

He gave me fifty.

"Monsieur la maire!" I cried, having never held so much money in my hands.

He smiled at me, much like a father smiles at a daughter. "Is there any more I can do?"

"Could I have my job back?" I asked hopefully, with this money and my pay I'd have enough to send for Cosette!

He gave a deep sigh and I knew what was coming. "Fantine, I'm sorry but.."

"I can't have my job back."

"No"

I accepted the verdict. 

**__**


	18. The Light is fading

Disclaimer: Ha! I'm not doing this anymore! Thank you for letting me know K.Telfer!

Author's Notes: Uh oh, sorry for the delay again guys! But from now on I will definitely be updating once a week – only five more chapters left! Erin: Wow, thank you! I'm glad you liked the lil Marius and Cosette bit. K.Tefler: Thanks so much! I actually am a Marius fan : ) – thanks for saying you like JVJ. I've never written him before. Black Hawk Down: Thank you…and I will : ). Marzoog: I really enjoyed Phantom (John Owen-Jones was great), and you were right about the costumes in "Think of Me" – they were beautiful. I'm afraid I'm your typical phan, in that I hate Raoul and love Erik. Lemon Drop: THANK YOU!!! That's so nice! As soon as I get time I will read your fics and write as nice a review for you : ). Iliana, Mika (*hugs*), Ponine 1989 and The Lark: Thank you all very VERY much : ). Happy Hobo: Yep, I'm an insane LotR fan *smiles*. I've actually just written Fantine and Bambi's fight – have to see what you think when I post it. Rosie: Thanks! Did you enjoy Les Mis? What cast did you see? Prisnor no.24601: Hey Meg! Sorry you had to wait so long for this chapter. Lady Laura 020: Oooo, did you see Phantom? Let me know what you thought! Eunike: Thank you- I'll check out you stories soon : ).

****

The Light is fading

My life really was a vicious cycle – being given money then having it taken away. I was poorer now than I had ever been, even more than when I lived under the bridge. Poor as us urchins were, we had each other and that made us rich. I thought of just sending for Cosette, but why should she have to live in poverty because of her mother's selfish needs?

I tried, really I did. I looked for work as a servant. No-one would take me – thanks to Monsieur Enjolras and his unwillingness to write me a reference. I couldn't leave, my landlord could (and probably would) have me arrested if I left without paying my rent. After dividing everything I owed, I was left with just a bed and debts of a hundred francs.

The mayor became my scapegoat, the reason I was living like this. It wasn't fair, not really, how could he know I have a child? But I needed someone to blame, and he was the most obvious choice.

My tiny room was in the middle of a three storey "house". Below me lived five teenagers who referred to themselves as "bohemians". Three Brits, a Parisian and a Venetian – all men and all artists, writers or musicians. They were charming men – even if they were very noisy in the night. The Venetian once composed a sonnet called "La Blonde" which he liked to recite to me whenever I complained about the noise. I don't remember it now, but there was a line something like "her hair is as yellow as spun gold". 

I befriended the spinster in the room above me – Marguerite. She was around fifty, and had lived in poverty since she was my age. She had once been very beautiful, but time had turned her golden hair and blue eyes grey. She showed me how to keep my head held high and forget my shame.

Marguerite was an expert at this, walking as proudly as a duchess. She had shame though, lots of it. One day we were walking through town when a carriage passed us – containing a baron and his wife. Marguerite spat at the wheels, causing a few other people to stare at her.

I frowned at her. "What did you do that for?"

"The girl in the carriage is my daughter" scowled Marguerite. "Not that she cares of course. Married a rich man and forgot her roots she did. I tried to introduce myself – but she's ashamed of me".

Marguerite's technique worked, nearly, but no amount of walking tall would make me forget who I was going through this for – my Cosette.

"She keeps me going" I told Marguerite, before dissolving into a coughing fit.

She frowned, and took my hands. "Your hands are _hot_ Fantine. Are you all right?"

I wasn't. I had barely survived the summer, but now the winter came. My forehead and hands were always hot. I wheezed and frequently coughed. And I couldn't earn enough money. I joined Marguerite in her sewing "job" which paid barely enough to buy a piece of bread a month. I received yet another letter from the Thenardiers:

__

Fantine,

Cosette is freezing and needs a new dress for the winter. Please send ten francs and we will be a suitable one.

M.Thenardier

"Ten francs!" I moaned, wandering up the stairs to my room. "Where am I going to get that kind of money?"

Hearing me pass his room the Venetian began to sing – I suspect he'd been on the absinthe that day. "Her hair is a yellow as sppppuuuunnnn ggggOOOooolllddd!"

I stopped with my fingers on the door handle. My hair! People always complimented me on it's condition and colour. I remembered Marguerite once telling me about a friend of hers:

"Twenty francs she got. Sold her hair to a local barber – they need it to make wigs and the such. She had such beautiful hair, it was a real shame".

I'd voiced my sympathies for the poor girl, but Marguerite had scolded me.

"Hair grows back Fantine. And she got twenty francs"

In somewhat of a daze, I rushed to the local barber and let my hair fall down to my waist.

The barber, whose name I can't recall, looked slightly surprised but sighed "such lovely hair!"

"What will you give me for it?"

He considered this for a moment and said "ten francs".

I smiled. "Then cut it off".

My daze disappeared the moment he cut the first strand. Silly really, it's only hair – but for such a long time that hair had become my identity. La Blonde, the girl with the thick golden curls.

Thick golden curls that now littered the barber's floor. I tried to pick up a little bit without him seeing, but he caught on and had his assistant to sweep the curls into a bag as he was cutting them.

Finally he stepped back, pronouncing that he was "done" and pressing ten francs into my hand. With my other hand I lightly touched my head. I had **no** hair left – except maybe a few blonde tufts here and there.

The barber's assistant saw the tears in my eyes. "Cheer up love, it's only hair".

But he took pity on me, and gave me a small golden strand, which I put in my pocket. It stayed there until the day I died, a reminder of the beauty I'd once been.

Clutching my poor shorn head, I made my way home ready to shock Marguerite with my new look. On the way I saw a shop with a darling little woollen dress displayed in the window – for ten francs. I grinned (my beautiful teeth sparkling) and bought it. The first dress I'd bought for Cosette in six years. I took it straight to my letter writer and told him to send it off to the "usual place".

On my way back inside the house the Parisian bohemian was coming towards me, clutching his manuscript in his hands. He was obviously on his way to yet another publishing house, but stopped dead when he saw my lack of hair.

"La Blonde!" he choked.

I smiled at him. "My daughter's not cold anymore. I have dressed her in my hair" and then I walked to my room, leaving him staring after me.

Marguerite nearly fainted when she saw me – as did the other bohemians. I began to wear mob caps to hide my now bald head and Marguerite said I still looked pretty. And I must of – because it was during that time that I took a lover.

He was a friend of the bohemians, a travelling musician called Julien. Actually I shouldn't call him a lover, that sounds like there was some love involved. Which there wasn't. To him, I was a woman to be used. To me, he was an acquaintance for whom I cared nothing. Our liaison lasted only a matter of weeks – during which he beat me, and I let him. So small was the respect I had left for myself.

The bohemians eventually realised what my frequent black eyes meant, and threw Julien out. I don't know what happened to him.

One rainy morning I received a letter from the Thernardiers:

__

Fantine,

Cosette has miliary fever and the only available medicine is forty francs. If you do not send this money straight away, she will die.

M.Thenardier

I laughed hysterically to myself (a habit I did a lot lately). "A mere forty francs! Are they mad?"

I was still laughing hysterically, with the letter in my hands, when I went for a walk. People uneasily walked around me – just in case the crazy laughing bald lady suddenly decided to jump on them. There was a dentist selling false teeth in a stall on the corner, and he glanced up when I came past.

"You've got a fine set of teeth my lass" he said, stopping me. "If you'd sell me your two incisors I'll pay you forty francs."

"Which are my incisors?" I asked cautiously.

"Your top two front teeth"

"How horrible!" I exclaimed. "Hair grows again, but not teeth!"

But I thought about it longer, and asked Marguerite about it as we quietly sewed together side by side.

"It's an illness" she told me.

"How do you get it?"

"It's just an illness that you catch"

"And children catch it?"

"Especially children"

I paused. "Do they die of it?"

"Very often" replied Marguerite.

"Is it….painful?"

"Oh yes" Marguerite said. "Terribly so, I once saw a child who had it. Poor little mite." She stopped sewing. "Why are you so interested?"

"No reason" I said, with a nervous laugh.

That night I went in search of the dentist. He remembered me and (quite strangely) said that he'd been thinking about my incisors all day. Without even letting me sit down, he placed a silver pair of pliers in my mouth, clamped them around my teeth and pulled.

After four tugs, he had both of my incisors in his hand – gleaming like little enamel snowballs. I whimpered, the pain was agonising.

"Drink some strong alcohol" the dentist advised. "It'll numb the pain". And then he handed me forty francs, which I sent straight to the Thenardiers.

Marguerite cried when she saw the gap in the front of my mouth. "Why Fantine?" she kept repeating. "Your beautiful teeth!". She also didn't understand why I didn't seem to have any money in return for my sacrifice.

"He must of given you **something**!" she exclaimed.

I didn't bother to put her straight – instead I went straight upstairs and smashed my mirror. I couldn't bare to look at myself anymore. I'm not the girl I once was. My hair and teeth – my only remaining vanities are gone. Gold and pearls the urchins used to call them, the gold was on my head and the pearls were in my mouth. Well not anymore. I speak with a lisp, due to my lack of front teeth. My cough gets ever worse. My room is now an attic with low beams, which I constantly bump my head on. I've sold my bed and sleep on the floor. I sew, and earn nine sous for seventeen hours work. Then I received a letter:

__

Fantine,

I have lost all patience. If you do not send a hundred francs then I will put Cosette on the streets.

M.Thenardier

What job pays a hundred francs that I can get? There's only one. As I told Marguerite "I may as well sell the rest"

And I did what I swore I'd never do. I took the job that used to make my skin crawl. I joined the women I used to look upon with such pity.

I became a prostitute. 

**__**


	19. Lovely Lady

Author's Notes: Well, yet again, I apologise for the delay. I've been very very busy with rehearsals for The Secret Garden, and college work – so I just haven't had the time. Also I'm going to update both today and tomorrow as well, aiming to get this fic finished by Friday. I know it seems like I'm rushing, but if I don't update it by this week it won't be finished till about June time. I've got a whole bunch of other fics (original and fan) waiting to be put up. Anyways…reviews! Eponinenkind: I made you cry? Sorry! *hugs Mika* Erin: Thank you for your kind words..and tissues are probably a good idea : ). LadyLaura020: I promise to read your original story the moment I have time…is it up on the new site? Happy Hobo: *laughs* Isn't everyone a Moulin Rouge fan? I had to include some bohemians after reading a "Victor Hugo's France" article, where it said that bohemians were everywhere in the time Fantine was around. With regards to Julien…he is in the book. I can't recall what page he's on (I'll try to find out by tomorrow) but he is there. I agree with you that it makes no sense, but it had to be put in. Marzoog: Argh! Erik is not evil, he's just misunderstood! Raoul is a…a…FOP!! *clears throat* Uh, thank you for your very kind review. I do the quizzes, the results are in my Blurty. Meujandi, Black Hawk Down, Pat, Emmy, Iliana, Prisnor no.24601 and Ponine1989: Thank you all...very much.

And now on with the chapter! I apologise for the amount of dialogue taken from the book…but there's really not much else I could do. It's also the first time I've ever even attempted Javert, so if he's completely out of character I'm sorry.

****

Lovely Lady

I'd lost all my dignity. If just a few months ago you'd told me I would have become a prostitute I would have screamed. But now I've come to this – a short haired, gap toothed lady of the night, prowling in front of an officer's café wearing the dress Tholomyes gave me (with the sleeves cut off and the neckline lower) and dried flowers in my hair. I never would have thought it, but the other girls were my kindred spirits. Some had sold their hair, some had sold their teeth - there was a girl called Nettie, who only had three teeth remaining in her mouth.

I was a "lovely lady" for only two months. And in that time I had only three customers – a nervous twenty year old who wanted to get "in practice" for his wedding night, and who eventually became so nervous that he threw the money at my feet and ran out the door. A wealthy land owner who was old enough to be my father and would lie on top of me for hours, nearly crushing me with his weight. And last of all (the night before everything happened) an Englishman who repeated "I can't believe I'm doing this" over and over – then forgot to pay me.

The other girls and I used to drink brandy to keep us warm and get rid of any modesty we might have. It made me have a quick temper however, and it was the brandy that was really at fault that night.

I was walking on what the other girls called "La Blonde's Patch", the thin straight line in front of an officer's club. There was a man stood in the doorway of this club, wearing a warm and rich looking coat and smoking a pipe. He was what we ladies called "a fop". Rich, good-looking, but slightly dull. I can't recall his name; in fact I don't think anyone ever told me.

The fop found my lack of hair and front teeth very amusing – and blew smoke in my face. I kept my eyes fixed on the snow on the ground and continuing pacing back and forth.

"Well you're a _pretty_ one," the fop said, mockingly. "What's your rate then?"

I started counting my steps. Eleven, both ways.

"Come on love, I'm a possible customer. What's your rate?"

I ignored him. I had a habit of ignoring potential customers who annoyed me, that was probably why I'd had so few in my short "career".

The fop looked annoyed as I turned my back on him and began to walk to the right of the door.

Suddenly there was a shoot of cold between my shoulder blades, which slithered all the way down my dress. Reaching back with my hand I realised – the fop had put snow down my back! If I hadn't been drinking so much brandy, I probably would have ignored the bitter cold now covering my back and simply moved to a different spot. As it was, I turned to him and screamed like a wildcat. 

He laughed, having gotten the reaction he wanted and turned as though to make his way back inside the club.

I took a ball of snow in my hand and leapt on his back – pushing it down his collar.

He cried out, very much like I had, and I scratched his face shouting various obscenities I had learnt on the street.

He fell backwards, losing his balance, and we both landed outside the club in the snow. I kicked out at him, colliding with his cheek and he tried desperately to defend himself.

A crowd gathered. Fellow prostitutes shouted encouragement, and a few well-dressed gentlemen tried to intervene to save the fop.

Then one voice louder than the others (Nettie I think) cried "run Fantine!"

I looked up, probably to ask why, and someone grabbed me by my corsage.

"You come along with me," the person said curtly.

It was Inspector Javert. He was a terrifying presence, forever stalking the streets, and had no patience for prostitutes. I'd only seen him from a distance before, but now his face was close to mine.

As quickly as I'd lost my temper I became silent, and began to tremble.

Inspector Javert walked the whole way to the police station, dragging me with him. The crowd who had gathered to watch the fight followed us, hooting with delight.

We entered the police post – a low room with a stove. I crouched in the corner, as close to this stove as I could get, and watched Inspector Javert with wide eyes. He sat at his desk, writing silently. He didn't acknowledge me.

When he was done, he handed the paper to another inspector and turning to me said, "you're getting six months"

I moaned. "Six months! But what about Cosette? I still owe more than a hundred francs to the Thenardiers!"

Inspector Javert wasn't listening of course, he'd moved onto another piece of writing.

I dragged myself along the floor until I was at his feet. "Monsieur Javert, I beg you to be merciful. It was not my fault"

Still no reaction.

"I was wrong to lose my temper, but when something ice cold is pushed down your back when you aren't expecting it you lose control"

Inspector Javert still did nothing,

"Don't send me to prison! They'll turn her out into the street – my poor Cosette. Have pity on me Monsieur Javert!" I clutched at the hem of his coat.

It was immediately wrenched from my grasp, and Inspector Javert coldly looked at me. "Is that all you have to say? You're getting six months and the Eternal Father himself can't alter it"

He turned his back on me, and two policemen pulled me to my feet. I was trying not to scream when a gentle voice came from the shadows.

"One moment, if you please"

The two policemen holding me froze as the mayor emerged from a corner. All three policemen bowed – the two holding me forced me to bow too. But I flung them aside and planted myself in front of the mayor.

Then I spat in his face.

One of the policeman gasped, and Inspector Javert began apologising "she's very unstable Monsieur le Maire. Please forgive her"

Why I'd done it I don't really know. I suppose that after the mayor being my scapegoat for so long, I really did believe that he was alone responsible for what had become of me.

The mayor coolly wiped his face. I was really in trouble now – but what was one more month in prison? The mayor turned to Javert. He was going to order a longer sentence.

"Inspector Javert, this woman is to go free"

I reeled, clinging to the stove. Had the mayor just ordered my freedom? The two younger policemen stared at me in disbelief, obviously trying to work out if I was the mayor's daughter or niece.

Inspector Javert couldn't seem to believe it either, he opened his mouth but no words came out.

"To go free!" I murmured, still not believing it. "I must have misheard it. It couldn't have been that monster, the mayor. Did you say it, good Monsieur Javert? It couldn't have been the _mayor_" I slithered to the mayor's feet. "He sacked me because of something the other girls said."

The mayor knelt down, so he was at my level. "How much do you owe these Thenardiers?"

How did he know that? How long had he been standing there? "Am I talking to you?" I snapped. "You brute of a mayor, you've come here to frighten me but I'm not afraid of you. You've no right to be listening to what I tell Monsieur Javert"

The mayor stared at me, his face gently and kind.

But I wasn't falling for that again. His face had been kind, right before he told me I couldn't have my job back. I turned to Monsieur Javert. "I'm not very well, like I said, I cough a lot and it's as though I had a lump burning inside me. Please, if I spend six months in prison I wouldn't be able to keep my Cosette alive! But you're kind Inspector Javert, you're fair"

He made no answer, I could go! I rearranged my dress and went to the door. "The inspector says I can go, so now I'm going"

I had my hand on the door handle when Inspector Javert cried "who said you could let her go?"

The mayor spoke again. "I did"

My headache resurfaced. Hadn't it been Inspector Javert who instructed for me to be set free?

The mayor was arguing with the inspector. "It was the man who was at fault, and it was he who should have been arrested"

"The woman flung herself on Monsieur Bamatabois…I am holding her"

The mayor folded his arms. "I order you to release this woman"

"But Monsieur la Maire – "

"That's enough"

"But –"

"Kindly leave the post"

Inspector Javert looked astounded, but bowed to the mayor and left – his cold grey eyes sweeping over me as he went out the door.

I stood still, rubbing my aching head. The mayor had saved me! I spat in his face, and he had saved me! My hatred (never really based on any real fact) was quickly replaced by trust.

He turned to me. "I heard what you said. Why did you not explain your circumstances when you came to see me in my office? Why did you not appeal to me? No matter, I will pay your debts and arrange for your child to be brought here. You will live here or in Paris or where you choose. You need not work if you don't want to. I will see you have what money you need. Let me assure you that if it has been as you say (and I do not doubt it) then you have been nothing but virtuous and chaste in the eyes of God. My poor girl!"

It was more than I could bear. To have Cosette! To be cared for, not to worry about money. I wanted to thank the mayor, but I couldn't make a sound. My legs gave way beneath me and I fell to my knees. I grabbed the mayor's hand and kissed it.

Then all was black.

**__**


	20. There's a darkness

Author's Notes: So here we are….the end. This is the first of a double-update, with the epilogue coming in about *looks at watch* five minutes. I haven't actually looked to see if I have any reviews for the last chapter, but for anyone who did review – thank you. It means a lot.

****

There's a darkness, which comes without a warning

And so I finish as I began – alone. After I fainted the mayor brought me to the factory infirmary, and when I awoke he explained that he has paid all my debts. But still the Thernadiers write, asking for more and more. Inventing silly things they've had to buy Cosette that they've "just remembered". At my dictation the mayor wrote a short letter to the Thenardiers, instructing them to "hand Cosette to the bearer". As soon as he had time, he promised to send someone to fetch her.

I hope it will be soon – I don't think I can last much longer.

What a change from the pretty girl who ate apple-turnovers at the Tete-Noire only a few years ago. My hair, my beautiful hair, cropped to a blonde crown on my scalp. I don't smile anymore, no matter how hard the nuns try to make me laugh, because I don't like to show my gap – on the top, in the middle.

They gave me a mirror, but I smashed it.

Monsieur Madeline hasn't been to visit for a long time. My cough has grown worse, my ribcage rattles with every breath and my head pounds. My sleep is ruined my nightmares that I die before my Cosette is returned to me. I want to tell him all of these things, hoping that the nightmares at least will make him go and fetch Cosette himself.

I shouldn't say that. He's been very kind to me; he's just too busy at the moment. That's what he said.

The clock on the wall (the one that keeps me awake with it's terrible ticking) shows that it is three o'clock. The mayor always comes to see me at three. I sit up straight, preparing myself. The sisters smile and whisper amongst themselves – with occasional glances in my direction. I hear the word "prostitute". For a moment I wonder who they're talking about. I nearly ask if there is another woman here, a prostitute.

But then I realise they're talking about me. I was a prostitute. I was one for such a short amount of time, but that's how they refer to me. A prostitute. They don't care that I can hear them – to them I'm a ghost. A thing not capable of speaking or hearing or even having an opinion. A thing they only put up with out of respect and affection for Monsieur Madeline.

Everyone likes Monsieur Madeline. He's kind and gentle. He's going to bring my daughter back.

Four o'clock. My rigid posture slackens a little. The sisters leave, still whispering. They don't think he's coming, they think he's finally forgotten about the prostitute. I know he hasn't, the mayor doesn't forget things easily.

Five o'clock. I finally admit defeat and sink back against my pillows. He's not coming. He's doing something more important. Lots of things are more important than coming to talk to a dying prostitute. Because I am dying. When you're dying, you know. We had a boy, under our bridge, who caught cholera – or some such disease. He knew he was dying four weeks before it actually happened. He said, "I feel like I'm sinking slowly into a black hole" and that's how I feel.

"But since I shall be going tomorrow, it is wrong of him not to come today" I murmur, before realising I was speaking aloud.

I returned to my thoughts. What could he be doing? He's never missed our three o'clock "meetings" before. And then it hits me. Cosette! Of course, he's gone to fetch her as a surprise for me! He did talk about her a lot yesterday, wanting to know her birthday, her favourite colour and what she likes to do. It was yesterday that it really struck me – I know nothing of my daughter. She is eight years old now, and I haven't seen her since she was nearly three. I don't know what she likes to do, although I made some things up for the mayor, I don't even know if I would recognise her now.

Something suddenly brought me out of my thoughts. One of the sisters and a girl I didn't know were talking quietly about the mayor.

I thrust my head through the curtains surrounding my bed. "You're talking about Monsieur Madeline! Why are you whispering? What is he doing? Why hasn't he come?". My voice sounds rough and hoarse even to me, I haven't spoken louder than a whisper for so long. The two women stare at me blankly.

"Answer me!" I wailed desperately.

The girl I didn't know stammered that the mayor couldn't come today, and the sister ordered me to calm down.

I didn't listen, and raised my voice even higher. "He can't come? Why not? You were talking about it, I want to know!"

The girl whispered something to the sister, who flushed slightly before fixing her eyes on me. "The mayor has gone out of town"

I remembered my thoughts from earlier, and believed them to be confirmed as true. I broke into my first real smile in months – not caring about my missing teeth. "He's gone out of town? He's gone for Cosette!"

My headache was gone, all my aches disappeared. I had something to live for. I gave the sister another wide smile. "I'll lie down again. I'll do anything I'm told. I behaved badly just no, I shouldn't have shouted. I hope you will forgive me. I'm happy now. Monsieur Madeline is kind. He has gone to Montfermeil to fetch my little Cosette!" I lay back and helped the sister to tidy up the bed.

"You must rest child," she said gently. "You mustn't talk anymore"

How could she ask me not to talk when there was so much to talk about? "When I asked him about Cosette yesterday he said "soon" – do you remember? He wants to surprise me!"

The sister sighed, and attempted to shush me.

I ignored her. "Please sister, don't stop me talking. I feel so happy. I feel so well. I shall see Cosette again! Oh, and it's so good of Monsieur Madeline to have gone for her! And they'll be here tomorrow. Tomorrow is the great day!". 

The sister smiled at me.

I was startled by how normal my voice sounded; I was sounding like myself again. I hadn't coughed between words. When the sister begged me again to lie down, I obeyed.

Tomorrow! I would finally see Cosette tomorrow! My doubts were gone, she'd recognise me – mothers and daughters have a bond. We'd meet again, and she would know me at once.

The doctor called, and I told him I hoped a little bed for Cosette would be put beside mine. He nodded, and went to speak with the sister. I could tell he was surprised by how much better I was. I overheard him say "there's a real improvement" and "perhaps we shall save her after all."

I slept well that night.

And I woke calmly, to find Monsieur Madeline stood over me – lips moving silently in prayer. I peered behind him, and finding no sign of my daughter asked "and Cosette?"

I was certain his face fell slightly.

"Why did you not sit her on my bed ready for when I woke up?"

He murmured. Something about the journey being very long.

"She could have slept here" I told him. "They're going to put a little bed for her, right next to mine. Why don't you bring her here?"

The doctor arrived, and stopped the mayor from answering me. He smiled and said, "you must keep calm. Your little girl is here"

"Oh!" I cried, unable to make any other sound. "Won't someone bring her in?"

"Not yet" the doctor said. "First you must get well"

"But I am well!" I shrieked. "Why have you brought her here, only to keep her from me? I want to see my baby!"

The doctor shook his head. "See how quickly you become agitated. When you are calmer, I will bring her to you myself."

In desperation, I looked at Monsieur Madeline – surely he could see how cruel they were being? But he stood still in prayer, not even looking at me.

I turned back to the doctor. "I beg your pardon, Monsieur le Medicin. At one time I wouldn't have spoken like that, but so many things have happened to me now I don't always know what I'm saying." I continued to tell him I understood, but really I didn't. I was calm, the calmest I'd ever been.

My attentions now returned to Monsieur Madeline, who had moved so that he was sitting on my bed. I enquired about his journey, about the Thenardiers – all in the calmest tone I could manage, with sideways glances at the doctor. The questions were all answered with nods.

"Did you think her pretty Monsieur le Maire?" I asked. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

He took my hand. "Cosette _is_ beautiful. You will soon see her, but now you must rest."

I obeyed and we sat in silence. All of a sudden I heard a child laughing and singing in the yard. Cosette!

"I can hear her!" I cried. "My darling, I can hear her!"

The laughter disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. I wondered if maybe I had dreamt it, indeed the mayor did look at me rather strangely – as though he could not hear it. I quietly began to tell him of all my plans for Cosette; her first communion, how our house would have a little garden. But, mid-flow, I glanced up to the doorway and saw a figure.

A tall figure. One dressed in the uniform of an inspector. It was Inspector Javert! He'd come to take me away, why else would he be here? But not now, not when I finally had Cosette!

The mayor hadn't seen him, he was sitting with his back to the door. But he saw the horror on my face. "Fantine, what's the matter?"

I simply pointed behind him, my hand shaking. "Monsieur Madeline! Save me!"

The mayor turned, and calmly said "he hasn't come for you". Then sharply to Inspector Javert – "I know what you're here for"

I didn't understand. My headache came back with vengeance, and I rubbed my forehead with my hands, which were hot. Bravely, through my fingers, I glanced at Inspector Javert.. He was glaring at the mayor with the same look he'd given me the night I was arrested.

Inspector Javert suddenly grabbed the mayor's collar, and the mayor let him!

I cried out the mayor's name in disbelief, massaging my aching head – coughs beginning to shake my body.

Inspector Javert laughed. "He isn't the mayor any longer!"

I was starting to weep, every sob sending pains through my head. Suddenly I heard Inspector Javert say "to fetch the woman's child? That's rich!"

I trembled. Cosette wasn't here? They'd lied! The mayor! The doctor! Even the sister! "Where is Cosette? I want to see her!" I cried.

Inspector Javert turned to me. "I tell you there's no mayor here! There's no one but a criminal, a convict called Jean Valjean." After this he looked at the mayor.

It's not true. I looked around the room wanting someone, anyone, to tell me it wasn't true. I tried to talk to the mayor, but all that came out was a whimper. I reached out to him, but my hands groped only thin air.

"It's like sinking into a black hole" the boy's voice echoed in my head. A black hole I was drowning in right now. I made another noise , a gurgle, which sounded like "Cosette", and then fell into the hole completely.

It was like my nightmares. I died without seeing my daughter again.

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	21. Epilogue

Author's Notes: *starts sniffling into a tissue* The last update! This, my dears, is the end! This fic has been a large part of my life for a very very long time and it never would have been finished without the lovely people I've come to call "my regulars". Update after update they reviewed, left constructive criticism and generally brightened up my day. So I'd like to thank (apologies for turning into a bad Oscar speech) the wonderful and talented – Mika for reviewing since the beginning, not missing a week and writing me nice e-mails that always cheer me up. Happy Hobo who is a very talented writer, and I look forward to reviewing all of her future stories. The lovely Raoul fan who is Marzoog, my fellow Anne of Green Gables fan! Lady Laura 020 for just being great..*sobs into tissue Halle Berry style* . Meg for being the only person to review chapter three! Rosie for being really really sweet all the time! Uh…K.Tefler, Lemon Drop and Estella Havishman, joint holders of the "nicest review ever" award! Black Hawk Down, Erin, Iliana, The Lark, Ponine 1989, Shandethe Sanders, peakechick, Darkness and Charlie (the first!), WeaselSlayer, Winter_Lady…and anyone I've forgotten! Just thank you…everyone. 

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Epilogue

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A last word about Fantine. We all have a common mother, the earth, and it was to this mother that she was restored. The cure thought it well to retain, for _the benefit of the poor, as much as possible of the money left behind by Jean Valjean. So he limited the funeral to the barest essentials, consigning Fantine to a pauper's grave in the free corner of the cemetery. Her mortal remains were laid to rest, in company with other unconsidered bones, in a public grave resembling her own bed._

They called her La Blonde. The girl with the golden curls, the big blue eyes and pearls for teeth. The urchins who gave her that nickname wouldn't have recognised her, had they come across her aged twenty-six. Bald and missing her two middle front teeth, only the azure eyes remained – and their beauty lit up her whole face. But she could never see it.

She was a beauty who could have gone everywhere, but went nowhere. She lived through many hardships, but fell at the last hurdle. Her kindness, her compassion and her complete devotion to her daughter made her worthy of the happiness she frequently chased, but was cruelly kept from her grasp.

She didn't have a funeral and (in the last few months of her life) thought that if she did die no one would really miss her. Marguerite did wonder where her pretty housemate had disappeared to, but the poor woman soon turned so senile that she couldn't remember if Fantine had really existed. She died only one month later, a similar lonely death. The bohemians were more satisfactory as mourners – using their charms to bribe news of Fantine's death from someone who worked in the factory. Unable to find exactly where she was buried they placed a rose on every unmarked/mass grave in the cemetery, hoping at least one would find it's way to Fantine. Dahlia, Mika and Marie fleetingly wondered about her, but never found out anything.

Cosette had only memories that she clutched like silk threads. She recalled blonde hair, lots of it, and a soft voice. These memoriescaused her to adore the doll called Catherine, which Jean Valjean bought for her because it reminded him too of the mother she never knew.

There was however, someone Fantine had mattered to very much and he stood in Paris holding a red flag high above his head – having never forgotten what a servant girl had once told him about standing up for what you believe in.

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"The time has come for me to tell you your mother's name. It was Fantine. You must not forget it, Fantine, and you must bow your head whenever you speak it. She loved you greatly and she suffered greatly. She was as rich in sorrow as you are in happiness. That is how God evens things out. He watches us all from above and knows what he is doing amid his splendid stars."

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THE END

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